


Paradox Rising

by Dahlia_Bellona



Series: Paradox Rising [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Eventual Romance, F/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2018-11-13 17:00:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 88,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11189460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dahlia_Bellona/pseuds/Dahlia_Bellona
Summary: Maya Hotu is an Assassin in the year 2012. Her Order is frantically searching for a way to prevent the destruction predicted by the First Civilization, and they are losing their war against the Templars. As Desmond Miles searches for a way into the old Temple in North America, Maya is sent to retrieve the Shroud of Turin, a powerful and mysterious piece of Eden, hidden in the land of her own ancestors, Easter Island.But once she reaches the Shroud, Minerva appears to her, giving Maya her own cryptic message. She blacks out, waking up in the year 1774. There, she runs into Connor Kenway and Achilles Davenport, and asks for their help to understand the message given to her by Minerva. In turn, she assists Connor in helping stabilize the birth of a Nation, and to recreate the near extinct Brotherhood of Assassins within the Colonies. Problem is, is that the more time she spends with Connor, the more danger she places herself and the fate of the world in her time by falling more and more for the stoic Assassin.What's more important? Trusting your heart, or performing your duties?What's a girl to do?





	1. I

  **Chapter 1**

 

The batteries in the flashlight couldn’t have run out at a more inconvenient time. Maya Hotu’s eyes were beginning to hurt from using her Eagle Vision for so long. Sure, it was great to be able to see in the dark, with it acting as though she had infrared vision, but her eyes were beginning to hurt from keeping the ability active for so long. Being in a cave that she had to rappel from the cliff side wasn’t making it any easier, either. The narrow tunnel reduced Maya to her hands and knees as she crawled along the cold and moist stone, in search for what her enhanced senses would reveal to her as the golden target. There were times she _hated_ being an Assassin--and this was definitely a time she hated it. She should be out hunting Templars, not looking for some ancient artifact that the Assassin Order had close to no knowledge about. The Shroud of Turin was a mysterious piece of Eden, capable of such great power that it could even resurrect the dead. The only other thing the Order knew about it--or heard about it--was that those with her type of DNA were the only beings capable of handling it.

 

But, her sense of duty to the Order she was raised within, along with a possible end of the world, created the urgency for Maya needing to find the ancient artifact. Her mother was the last Assassin to look for the Shroud shortly after Maya was born, but she had disappeared mysteriously while on her quest to retrieve it. That fact didn’t put any more comfort in Maya. Apparently, the Order was willing to sacrifice Maya to whatever fate she had on her own quest for the stupid thing--but then again, they were losing their centuries’ old war with the Templars, and humanity could cease to exist within a few weeks. “You doin’ alright?” Joseph, a member of her team keeping watch on the cliffs, had broken her trail of thoughts as he spoke to her through the small earpiece in her ear.

  
  
Maya stopped to adjust the backpack strapped to her back, and wiped the loose strands of her black hair out of her face. She clenched her eyes shut for a moment, straining to stay focused amidst the slight pain developing in her head, from keeping the enhanced sense activated for so long. “Yeah, fine. I should almost be to the Shrine.” She answered.

 

She opened her eyes, and continued to push herself forward. At least this wasn’t another of her Courtesan missions. Maya would rather be doing something for the Order other than seducing Templars in exchange for information before she killed them. A girl can only take so many looks of betrayal from Templars she had killed--sometimes brutally--who could have possibly been good fathers, sons, or brothers--if only they didn’t choose the wrong side. She had constantly cursed her position as a Courtesan. They were supposed to be an order of female Assassins specifically trained in a certain style of killing their targets, or even infiltration. But, now they were trained to complete their missions using any means possible. _More like damned prostitutes._

 

Maya gritted her teeth. She had never wanted to be a Courtesan; she was supposed to have been the one infiltrating Abstergo Industries to rescue Desmond after he was captured, but no. She knew Lucy Stillman would have lost her soul as a Courtesan. Maya had liked Lucy, and so she couldn’t let her take the position as a Courtesan. Maya figured she’d already lost her own soul piece by piece… _Yeah. No big deal_. Now, with Lucy dead, because she was set to betray the Assassins, they were royally screwed. Who knows? Maybe Lucy would have been alive still, had she not been exposed to the Templar bastards.

 

 _Whatever_.

 

  
What’s done is done, and Maya couldn’t change a damned thing, even if she wanted to. Crawling on her hands and knees through a cave was definitely a break from the up close and personal killings that Maya had done as a Courtesan Assassin. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Maya’s eyes spotted the golden target: a small stone case, that sat atop an altar made of stone that had carvings of ancient Rapa-Nui designs intricately carved into the stone. She finally deactivated her enhanced vision, as she stood up to her feet. Maya cautiously walked towards the altar that was illuminated only by the two torches that stood in either side. She could still hear the roar of the ocean from outside as the sounds of the waves crashing against the jetties bounced off the cave walls.

 

A chill ran up her arms under the sleeves of her black top, as she stared at the small case. A carving of the Rongorongo glyph for the number 9 was engraved on the top of the case. It was the writing of her ancestors; glyphs that had yet to be deciphered by modern archeologists, due to her ancestors destroying any way of translation. Maya was taught to decipher the glyphs by her father; a secret that was only to be kept within her family. The glyphs were the writings taught to her ancestors by the First Civilization, to keep the secrets that needed to be guarded by her people. “I found the Shrine.” She told Joseph through her com link.

 

Maya gently touched her fingertips to the carving, but snapped her fingers back with alarm as the carving sucked into the stone top. The top moved on its own as it pulled back from the case. Her gaze moved up from the altar, following the lines of bright gold that sprouted from behind the altar, and wove their way up along the walls. The lines spread out, surrounding Maya, encasing her from the cave she stood in. More of the ancient glyphs of her people appeared around her in gold holograms as the Shroud of Turin hovered over its case, ready for the taking. A figure materialized at the side of the altar; a woman that was easily a foot taller than Maya, dressed in white, with a large crown atop her head of long black hair. The woman’s black eyes peered down at Maya. “You’ve finally come. We’ve waited a long time for you, Daughter of Eve.”

 

  
Maya narrowed her eyes up at the glowing woman. She had heard the women in her lineage being referred to as the Daughters of Eve, or the female descendants of the first hybrid female, Eve. Cautiously, Maya stepped towards the woman, resisting the urge to touch her to see if she was real. “Who are you?” Maya asked her.

 

“I am Minerva, the seeing eye of our people. We have waited a long time for you, Maya.”

  
  
Minerva, the common personification of the Goddess of Wisdom, but to the Assassins and Templars, a woman of the first civilization. Maya remembered her from the sessions Desmond Miles had in the animus; it was because of her, that the Assassins found out about the world ending in the first place. Maya’s attention turned to her surroundings; golden holographic images of Rongorongo glyphs floated around her aimlessly, along with numbers that looked to be binary code. She looked back to Minerva. “Why have you waited for me? I thought you only communicated with Desmond’s ancestors?” Maya waved her hand to gesture to the floating glyph at her side, “And where the hell am I?”

“You are in what is known as the Nexus. Here, calculations are made so the proper path may be chosen. You are a daughter of Eve, the one that was foreseen to be the pure reason for change; the eye of your kind.”

 

That was no big surprise; Maya knew she descended from the first human hybrid. It was the other portion of Minerva’s revelation that confused her. “What do you mean the eye of my kind?” Maya threw her hands up, in a gesture to stop Minerva from answering the question. It’s not like the woman was going to. The ancient beings were frustrating enough, giving cryptic messages that left the Order scrambling like fools trying to figure them out. “Wait, don’t answer that.” She then let her arms fall to her sides. “Look, the world is coming to an end, and I need to do my part in saving it by taking the artifact, and be on my way.” She reached her hand towards the folded Shroud of Turin, but stopped as Minerva spoke.

 

“Take the artifact, and you will embark on your true destiny set out for you and for the world around you. Leave the artifact, and it will remain hidden, and the world will be destroyed. But, be warned: what is done cannot be undone.”

 

Well that was a no-brainer. Save the world, or let it be destroyed? _Duh_. Maya scoffed, shaking her head in contempt for the ancient woman standing in front of her. “I had been born into an Order that was created to be guardians of these artifacts, as charged by you!” Maya’s hazel colored eyes darkened with determination. “I _will_ fulfill my duty as an Assassin.”

  
  
“You will also fulfill your destiny as the Daughter of Eve and the Mother of Change.” Minerva added. Her lips upturned slightly into what Maya could only tell were a small smile.

 

Maya had clenched her fingers for a moment, contemplating what Minerva had just said. She had no idea what Minerva had meant by referring to her as a Mother of Change. But, time was running out; it was time Maya didn’t have to spend shooting the breeze with a hologram of an ancient woman. “I’m prepared to have this done with.” Maya snapped at her as she touched the Shroud.

 

A sharp pain bolted through her fingertips, up her arm, and spread throughout the rest of her body as she froze into a state of paralysis. The Shroud disappeared from her fingertips as soon as the pain subsided, releasing her from her frozen state. Maya was engulfed in a blinding light as a dull pain pulsed in her mind, causing her to drop to her knees. She slammed her hands to her head, clenched her eyes shut, and resisted the urge to scream. This had to have been the experience that her mother had gone through. Now, it was pretty clear that Maya would meet the same fate as her mother. The killer headache had calmed, only to plunge Maya into darkness--a darkness that Maya couldn’t accept. Not with the world’s destruction just around the corner. Joseph’s muffled voice came through the com link just before Maya fell into unconsciousness. “Maya! What’s happening?!” Maya closed her eyes, and didn’t answer him.

 

“Maya!”

 

* * *

 

Connor Kenway’s legs felt like weights as he made his way up the small incline of the hill that led to the manor. Homestead Davenport was a place he came to call home since he was taken in by Achilles Davenport. He should be at peace as he always had whenever he came back to the Homestead. And why shouldn’t he? Dumping the tea over the ships within Boston harbor had felt like a victory. The colonists that were outraged over the incredulous taxation cheered as he and the Boston recruits of the Brotherhood assisted Samuel Adams and the Sons of Liberty. William Johnson, the Templar behind the smuggling of the crates they had destroyed, could no longer purchase--actually steal would be the correct word--the land of his people. The colonist rebels had sent a message to the British Crown overseas, and his people were safe from the land aquisition due to the elimination of Johnson’s financial source. He remembered the Templar watching him as he held out the last crate of Johnson’s tea over the water, and as Connor flashed him an arrogant smirk, he let the box drop from his hands into the water. It was a message to Johnson; to let him know that his operation was over.

 

_Kill two birds with one stone._

 

  
But, for some reason, as Connor paused in front of the door leading into the manor, he couldn’t help but contemplate if he had made a mistake. Since he began living with Achilles when he was only fifteen years old, Connor was taught that killing the Templars was the only way to eliminate the threat. Telling Achilles that he had spared Johnson’s life would displease the old man. However there was no need to kill the Templar if his financing had been destroyed. Johnson wouldn’t be foolish enough to try again.

 

Lifting his chin up, Connor assured himself in his decision. It was done; over. Nothing more needed to be done against Johnson. The Templars had understood the message Connor sent. He opened the door to the manor, expecting to see the Old Man waiting for him in the entryway. But the hallway was empty. Closing the door behind him, Connor stepped into the hallway, glancing to the office at his left, and to the sitting room at his right, but his brow furrowed when he found them both empty. “Old Man?” He called out.

 

He was answered with silence and eyes moved up to look ahead of him to the door that led to the back of the manor, to the point overlooking the cliffs. Connor suddenly realized that Achilles was more than likely still meditating, which was something the Old Man had done every sunrise. Hopefully the mediatation calmed Achilles enough to avoid the berating that Connor didn’t want. He hated disappointing the old man.

 

Connor made his way through the hall towards the back doorway. He took a deep breath, preparing himself. Arguing with his mentor was not something he kept on his list of daily tasks. Connor respected Achilles as a man and Assassin, and tried his best not to upset him, however there were instances when Connor couldn’t contain his youthful temper. Achilles had tried to instill patience into Connor, but frustration would easily take over. Connor wanted Charles Lee dead; he was a threat to Connor’s people, and the people of the Colonies. However, Achilles insisted that he was not ready to face Charles Lee--or his own father, Haytham Kenway--just yet. And the more time Connor spent trying to learn patience, the more time the Templars had to spread throughout the Colonies. He wanted to do the right thing; and the right thing was to go after Lee and Haytham and ensure they couldn’t harm any more people.

 

But, at the same time, it felt good to be able to know he wasn’t alone in the fight for freedom. The three men he recruited in Boston--Stephane Chapheau, Duncan Little, and Clipper Wilkinson--had helped tremendously in the liberation of the distircts within Boston. Together, alongside Samuel Adams, they began to rally as many as they could to speak out for themselves. Stephane was especially enthusiastic about causing riots throughout the city. This at least would be good news to Achilles.

 

Connor finally opened the door, and looked to the cliffs and saw Achilles, with his back turned to him, sitting atop a boulder, facing out to the water. He walked out to his mentor, and prepared himself for a scolding, as he rounded Achilles’ perch. “It is done.” Connor finally told him.

 

He watched the old man for any reaction. Connor didn’t lie to Achilles; he only said three simple words, and had hoped Achilles would leave it at that. No luck. “Johnson is dead?” The old man finally asked after a few seconds of silence.

 

Connor turned his face away from Achilles’ as he paced in front of his mentor. “No.” He winced at the wavering tone in his voice. No doubt the old man had caught it. Connor tilted his head to look at Achilles. “He retreated when we destroyed the tea.” He explained.

 

He saw the old man’s eyes darken as he narrowed them at Connor. “Only to hatch a new scheme, I’m sure.” Achilles said quietly. Connor looked away from him. At least the old man was trying to hold in his anger. “You should have killed him.”

  
  
The statement had told Connor his decision was a mistake. Achilles had expected Johnson to be dead. Connor paced the ground in front of Achilles, and felt the intensity of Achilles’ stare. He had hated disappointing him; but there were just some things that were unecessary in Connor’s eyes. “There was no need.” Connor told him, as he lifted his shoulder in a slight shrug.

 

Of course there still was the possibility that Johnson could try and think of something else; but Connor felt he sent a clear message. But when he heard the small snort of disbelief from Achilles, he knew the old man felt different. He always had seemed to feel different; whereas Connor felt the need to do things one way, Achilles stuck with traditions of the Order and did it his way. “Time will tell if you speak the truth.” Achilles said flatly.

 

Connor grimaced and decided it was time to walk away. He made his way to the manor, trying to reassure himself that he did the right thing. He’ll prove to the old man that he knew what he was doing; times were changing around them both, and Connor had hoped that he could instead just move forward on his hunt for Charles Lee and Haytham Kenway.

 

* * *

 

The bright light had burst through the darkness that consumed Maya as her eyes shot open and she took a grateful gulp of air. Rolling to her side, she coughed at the sudden intake of air. As the coughing fit subsided, she rolled to her hands and knees. She had finally caught her breath, and looked up, taking in her new surroundings. The sounds of crickets chirping had filled her ears, with the howl of a wolf in the distance. She felt the cool dirt beneath her palms, and frowned. She bent her legs beneath her, sitting back, and examined her surroundings again. She was surrounded by trees that had just begun growing their leaves. It was already nightfall, and only the moon in the night sky had provided any kind of light. _Shit_.

 

She reached her arm back around to make sure her backpack had still been on her back.  _Check_. Maya gripped one of the straps, bringing the bag around to the ground in front of her. She unzipped it, quickly taking an inventory. Bottled water-- _check_ ; rock climbing tools-- _check_ ; hidden blade bracers on her wrists-- _check_ ; snacks-- _check_. Shroud of Turin-- _shit_.

 

That was missing. Maya placed her hand to her forehead, trying to recap what had happened before blacking out to unconsciousness. She remembered finding the Shroud in the purity cave to the Virgin Goddess on Easter Island; then the woman herself made an appearance, warning Maya about taking the Shroud; and then--she touched the Shroud, and blacked out. _Son of a bitch!_ Maya clenched her hands, and slammed her fists down onto her thighs in frustration. The blasted thing was within her reach, and she passes out. _Some Assassin_.

As Maya stood to her feet, strapping her backpack over her back, she turned, looking around her for any signs of human life. She pressed a finger into her ear, pressing the com link-- _nothing_. Not even a damned beep. She pulled it out, staring at the tiny piece of technology, and shoved it into her pant pocket. For all she knew, she could have been in the middle of some whacked out dream after being knocked out by the Shroud, or _worse_ \--in the animus. She dreaded the damned thing; she had a problem with having to relive memories--whether it be one of her ancestors or her own; they were probably the same. Courtesan Assassins throughout the centuries. Maya wasn’t in the mood to relive sex with some guy in the past as her own ancestor. In the empty forest that surrounded her, there seemed to be absolutely no sign of human life or even a place for her to find shelter. She cursed the Order for forbidding her to use a cell phone-- now would have been the perfect time to use one! The only option Maya had was to move forward to find a way to get home, but she didn’t know her new environment, except that predators were active at night. The only weapon she had on her was the hidden blades that were in the bracers strapped to her wrists. She blew out a sigh of relief at the sounds of footsteps coming towards her location from just ahead of her.

 

Maya crept forward, cautiously, towards a bush and hid, waiting to check out the source of the footsteps before she asked for help. As the source came closer on the dirt trail just in front of her, Maya froze in confusion. She rubbed her eyes quickly and focused on the two men that now walked past her, just to make sure she wasn’t imagining things. From what she could tell, they were dressed like British Redcoats from the Colonial times, and carried long rifles resembling muskets. They walked past her, and Maya stood, watching them in disbelief. Her logic came to two conclusions: either she was somehow in the Animus, or she had fallen harder on the cave floor than she thought. She reached her hand up to the back of her head, feeling for a bump--nothing. “Stop there!” She froze at the man’s voice behind her.

 

The sound of a pistol cocking, ready to fire, caused Maya to hold up both of her hands in surrender and to show, at least to his eyes, that she wasn’t armed. She slowly stood upright, and turned to a barrel of a flintlock pistol in her face, held by a man that dressed similarly to the two that had just passed. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of her. He looked to be just as confused as she was; and why wouldn’t he? Maya remembered that in the past, someone only wore black to show they were in mourning. And, she was a woman dressed in clothing that fit snug against her body clearly showing the curves she had been born with. Maya figured she looked to be dressed extremely strange and possibly indecent to him. His stare moved to her face, and he narrowed his eyes with suspicion. Maya rolled her eyes; she had almost forgotten just how racist the people were against the natives during this period. “Look, I’m a bit lost--”

 

“Quiet!” He ordered.

 

  
Maya noticed his hand shaking slightly, and saw him swallow harshly. He was nervous. Wait, why was she acting as though looking at someone dressed like him was normal? “Where am I?” Maya asked.

 

“I said quiet!” He barked. “You will be questioned back at the fort.”

  
This can’t be good. Maya could not risk being held prisoner or even questioned. She remembered that the flintlocks could only be fired once, and took forever to be reloaded. Just enough time for her to get away. Out of the corner of her vision she could see the silhouettes of a few more men making their way towards them. “Fuck it.” Maya muttered.

 

She slapped the hand away from her face, knocking the pistol out of his grip in the process. He reacted quickly, drawing out his sword, slicing towards her. “Whoa!” Maya squealed in surprise, barely dodging the blade. He brought his sword back towards her, but Maya blocked with one arm, and summoned her hidden blade from its bracer on the other. Out of instinct, she shoved it upwards under his throat and into his skull.

 

 _Shit_.

  
Shock flashed in his eyes as his body jerked and then stilled. Maya pulled her arm back, and let the Redcoat collapse to the ground in a lifeless heap. She didn’t want to kill him. But she had to. He had nothing to do with her appearing out of some twisted burst of light in the middle of nowhere! But taking her to a Fort for questioning was not an option she could take. Maya quickly wiped the blood off of her blade onto the dead soldier’s jacket, and retracted the blade back into the bracer on her wrist. She could hear the footsteps rushing towards her position, and Maya turned and ran, leaving the dead redcoat behind. His backup had followed her in pursuit, screaming out commands like _Halt!, Stop!_ , and as she passed by a patrol of redcoats along the trail she had run on, she heard _Stop her!_

 

“Shit!” Maya pressed forward, trying to look for some safe place to hide. She ducked her head as she ran from the gunfire that burst from behind her, bouncing off the rock walls that lined the trail. Maya continued dodging through and around trees, bushes, and boulders until she finally saw what looked like a small town nestled in the valley below her.

 

The sound of boots pounding along the ground and shouts of pursuit behind her gave her more than enough motivation to take her chances with hiding out in some random building. Maya saw the trail to her right leading down towards the town and decided to take her chances and ran down the trail. Her lungs were beginning to ache and her thighs burned as her legs carried her as fast as they could. She was grateful that it was at least downhill from where she was. Each building she ran past had looked to be an occupied home; and she ran past an Inn, and decided she wasn’t even possibly going to take her chances in a public place. She broke off of the trail leading through the town after she crossed a small bridge near a lumber mill, and finally saw a property with a large stable. Maya rushed towards it, opening the door to the main barn. Her vision adjusted to the darkness in the barn and her nose filled with the stench of horse manure and hay, but she ignored it as she looked for a reasonable place to hide. She saw crates stacked near the ledge of a loft above. Maya knew that soon the soldiers would reach the property, and so she mustered up what little strength she had left and climbed the crates and pulled herself up onto the loft. She skulked back into the darkest corner she could find, trying to control her breathing and waited for signs that the redcoats had abandoned their pursuit of her.

 

Maya couldn’t calm herself down enough to think rationally. She bent her knees up as she sat with her back against the wall, and pressed her hands against her forehead. How in the hell did she end up in a place where the British Army still dressed as Redcoats using flintlock weapons? There were no cars; the homes were all styled during the times of the Colonies, and no signs of electricity. If touching the Shroud did something to make Maya disappear in her time, and reappear in some other time period--Maya looked up from her hands, gazing absently at the wall in front of her. She could hear the shouts of the soldiers getting closer, bit by bit. It wouldn’t be long before this weird nightmare took a turn for the worse. Maya gulped, uttering a curse. “ _I’m screwed._ ”

 


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Maya is trying to escape her pursuers for her crimes, she is frantically trying to understand just where and WHEN she's at. Animus? No. Well, she runs into the two Assassins she grew up idolizing; in hopes they could possibly help her...that is, if they even believe her.

_**Chapter 2** _

 

The persistent knocking on the door was beginning to grate on Connor’s nerves. This was the first time he was defeating Achilles at a game of _Fanorona_ , and he had left Achilles with only two pieces compared to his own five pieces left on the board when the game had been interrupted by a loud knocking on the front door of the manor. Judging by the loud pounding on the door, Connor knew it had to have been an urgent matter. Achilles waited near the stairway, as Connor made it to the door, and opened it to four very exhausted redcoats. Their heavy breathing, sweat drenched faces, and how they were bent over with their hands on their knees when he opened the door to them had told Connor they had been in pursuit of someone. His eyes narrowed at them, as his adrenaline began to surge. One of the residents within the Homestead, David Walston--or Big Dave as he liked to be called--had been brought to live and work here in the hope of a new life _away_ from the Redcoats. Dave had been afraid the redcoats would come after him, but Connor had assured him he would help him if need be.

 

Connor was glad he at least had the bracers still strapped to his wrists that housed his hidden blades. The redcoat in front had finally stood upright after catching his breath, “We had chased a fugitive to your property.” He said between breaths. “We believe she had hidden in your stables.”

 

Connor relaxed slightly. Good; they weren’t after Dave. But-- _she_? “What was her crime?” Connor curiously asked them. He’d never heard of a woman that had the Redcoats pursuing her so diligently; especially since they had chased her more than likely from the patrol routes just outside of the Homestead.

 

“Murder.” The head Redcoat answered him.

 

This was not something that the Homestead needed. It was a peaceful community, and Connor believed in saving those that only wanted to go about their lives. He didn’t want a danger around the small community. His jaw tightened as he pushed past the four soldiers on the manor’s doorstep, and he made his way towards the barn. The soldiers followed him as he walked towards the large main door of the barn. It would be a lot smarter if they had just stayed behind. But, he knew they wouldn’t listen to him if he had warned them, anyway. The soldiers had the hindrance of their long rifles, as well as the large packs that were strapped to their backs that had always created a disadvantage for them that Connor had exploited more than once on past skirmishes with other soldiers. Of course, he wasn’t foolish enough to reveal that to them.

 

He stopped just in front of the large door and touched his fingers to the wood as his mouth turned into a frown. The door was closed before he turned in for the night--he closed it himself--and now, it was slightly ajar. His eyes scanned the ground at his feet, and he knelt down examining the odd footprints leading into the barn. The prints were oddly grooved, unlike any Connor had ever seen. The sole of the intruder’s boot had thick zig-zagged grooves imprinted into the dirt. Who would have such a weird shape to the sole of their boots? He had almost forgotten about the soldiers behind him as he stood. Turning his head to look at them, Connor held his hand up. “Stay here. I will search the barn. You all will only overcrowd the limited space and cause more problems.” He told them.

 

He didn’t give them any time to protest his order, as he opened the door and stepped inside. His vision adjusted from the darkness within the barn to a lighter hue, bringing the figures of the horses within their stalls to a bright blue, as he activated the sixth sense he had been gifted with since birth. Achilles had told him he inherited it from his ancestors since he had descended from the first hybrid humans. It was a gift of _knowledge_ , as Achilles had put it. The sixth sense had illuminated targets, living or not, a bright golden color, and had made it easier to see in pitch black areas; it’s what made his ancestry such deadly assassins. His hearing had also amplified slightly to assist his enhanced vision. The sound of one of the horses pawing at the ground, the wind beginning to blow outside of the barn, the crickets outside chirping their songs into the night; and as his eyes moved up towards the loft, he heard it: a faint shuffle along the floor above him.

 

* * *

 

Maya silently thanked her ancestors for the eagle sense she was gifted with. The figures that entered the barn-- _five_ , Maya counted--stood just beneath the ledge of the loft she had hidden on. Four of the redcoats that chased her into this mess, and another person that had accompanied them into the barn. Maya steeled her nerves as she clenched her fists ready for a fight. She wished she had her chain whip, but she left the blasted thing back at the makeshift camp on Easter Island. It would have been easier to fight them with it from her position. Now, she was cornered. She should have known those idiots would find her there. At least they were stupid enough to pack themselves into the already small space with the gear they had packed on them. Her fight or flight instinct kicked in, and she decided the four redcoats would either need to die or be severely disabled, for her to get away.

 

But the other figure caused Maya to hesitate. From what she could tell, he looked unarmed, wearing only a blouse and trousers with boots on his feet. He was more than likely the owner of the property coming to investigate what the Redcoats were after. The only reason Maya’s eagle vision had him in red was that she couldn’t tell if he were friend or foe; she couldn’t read him. Her prayers were answered as two of the redcoats walked to stand directly under where she stood. She could quickly take them out, finish the other two and run without hurting the unarmed man--assuming he wasn’t there to kill her.

 

 _It was now or never_. Maya summoned forth her hidden blades on the holsters strapped to her wrists, pointing downwards, and leaped off the ledge of the loft with grace and ease. It was a move she had done too many times on targets in the past. The two poor sods didn’t have the time to scream when they looked up as Maya’s blades slammed into their throats, mercifully ending their lives instantly. Their bodies went down to the ground along with her as she landed on her feet in a crouch. She pulled the blades out of the corpses with a yank, and as she stood, she shoved her blades upwards into the chests of the other two redcoats as they turned to see what had happened. As Maya pulled her hands back and retracted the blades into their bracers, she felt the tiny hairs on the back of her neck rise with the sudden tension that rushed towards her.

 

The last man standing must have grabbed a pistol from one of the first two soldiers Maya had put down. Damn! How many pistols would be pointed at her before the night was over? She heard the cock of the flintlock, “Don’t. Move.” The hard, flat tone in his voice hit Maya with a reality check.

 

He was going to kill her. Her adrenaline surged, and Assassin-mode kicked into overdrive. _No can do_ , Maya thought with a sneer. She reacted quickly, turning her upper body back towards him, leaning back to avoid the barrel of the pistol. Reaching around with one hand, she grabbed the pistol and twisted it out of his grip. Her hand kept a grip on his outstretched arm, and before he could react, Maya grabbed the collar of his shirt with her other hand, and turned, throwing him to the ground at her front.

 

She needed a plan. Maya couldn’t spend her whole time wherever-- _whenever_ \--she was, on the run. The stranger may let her reason with him. He was on his feet in a swift movement, and although Maya had converted back to her normal vision in the darkness of the barn, she could feel the anger roll off of him in waves. Let her _reason_ with him? Fat chance. Turning, Maya bolted for the door, but he lunged without warning. His hand was on her arm in an instant, and Maya turned on him thrusting her other fist to his face, but the stranger blocked it with his other hand, keeping a grip on her fist. _Dammit_!

 

In a blur of motion, he had her pinned face first against the wall of the barn near the door to her freedom. The tip of a blade was at her throat, and her head turned forcefully to him. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” He demanded.

 

There was no wariness in his voice; only irritation and anger. Maya was close to going into a rabid rage. She _hated_ having the disadvantage, and she _sure_ as hell hated to be touched. She struggled against him, looking for a loophole to work her way out of his grip. “Get your fucking hands off me!” She shouted.

 

His grip on her suddenly loosened as if he was startled or surprised. _Good_. Maya shifted and threw her elbow back into his gut. He doubled over with a grunt, releasing her. She turned to face him; this time, she wasn’t going to give him the opportunity. Maya threw a kick to his side and felt her knuckles crack as her fist slammed into his face. Her adrenaline fueled her as she prepared to throw another punch at him, but the stranger quickly recovered to block it. Jesus--he wasn’t going to _stop_! He crouched slightly, swinging his arm at the back of her legs, sweeping her to the ground. Maya was caught off guard, and pain throbbed in the back of her head when she fell back onto the hard wooden floor beneath her. He moved to stand over her, but she reached over with her hand, gripping his lower leg. She moved one of her legs behind him while the other moved to his front, and she used both legs to take him down with her.

 

One of her hidden blades snapped into her hand from its bracer on her wrist, and she twisted it to grip the handle tightly in her hand. Maya rolled quickly and was straddling his hips, pressing her thighs tightly at his sides. As she leaned down towards him and pressed the blade to his throat, his eyes only widened with surprise. Something pulled at her mental shields she always used to barricade any emotion from her mind as she suddenly became aware of the man she had beneath her. _Don’t_ , Maya told herself. She couldn’t afford to feel emotions. A tingling sensation flowed from her fingertips to her hands and then moved its way up her arms in tendrils.

 

Her brow furrowed momentarily, and she resisted the urge to check her arms to make sure nothing was crawling on them. Maya’s eyes narrowed to slits as she fixated onto the target beneath her. “ _May you find peace in the arms of your Creator_ ,” The line she had used on her targets before she delivered their deaths automatically fell from her lips in her native Rapanui language.

 

She lifted her hand that held the blade slightly to bring it back down onto him, but he grabbed her wrists and moved her blade wielding hand to the side, giving it a hard, rough shake. He let out a sound of irritation when he realized that Maya was _not_ giving up her blade. He rolled her over and pinned her wrists above her head. “Hey!” Maya yelped in surprise.

 

He used one hand to keep her hands pinned, and grabbed her blade with the other. Maya watched as he pulled the blade closer to his face to examine it. She struggled against him, but the weight of his body kept her pinned. “Stop!” He demanded as he shoved the blade tip first, into the wood next to them.

 

 _Who the hell does he think he is_? And damn it, why was her heart racing as his fingers made contact with her skin, pulling the sleeves back to expose her-- _oh shit_. “No!” Maya screamed.

 

She couldn’t let him see the bracers. Their designs that were branded into the leather were those that any Templar would know; they would be able to tell what she was. And by the way, his eyes widened at the designs on her bracers, and then narrowing to a hard glare at her, he knew it as well.

 

“You’re an _Assassin_?”

 

* * *

 

 

“Who the hell are you?” The woman snarled at him.

  

She could fight, that was for sure. Connor had been shocked when she leaped down from the loft, killing all four guards in a matter of seconds. It was no wonder that they were after her. He did not doubt that she had killed one of the redcoats outside the Homestead’s borders. Sure, she had been using hidden blades from the minute she appeared; but so had his father. For all he knew, she could have been a Templar spy for Haytham, sent to kill him and Achilles. But, when Connor looked at the blade she intended to kill him with, he saw intricate carvings that were almost identical with the carvings that adorned his hidden blades; and when he pulled back her sleeves to reveal the bracers---well, the designs branded within the leather of the bracers definitely revealed her identity as an Assassin.

 

At first, Connor only intended to restrain her. But he became easily irritated when she turned on him. He obviously had underestimated her, but for a woman her size, he didn’t think she’d have the skills to match his. And he wasn’t going to let her out to kill anyone within the Homestead; especially when she seemed to have no remorse killing the redcoats within the barn. Connor would have killed them had they been after him, but only if they had shown intent on killing him first; and then, she turned to kill him! His attention turned back to the woman underneath him. She was _furious_. Connor kept her hands pinned above her head, as he used his body weight to keep her body pinned beneath his. “Answer my question!” He demanded.

 

“ _Fuck_ you!”

  

What? Now, that was a word Connor had never heard before. She had such venom laced in her words that she hurled at him, that it nearly shocked him. Her features hardened with anger, as she bucked her hips attempting to roll him over to gain the advantage. Her gaze was feral and fierce; her hair had spilled like black silk around her head on the wooden floor beneath her. He noticed a golden tint to her eyes that looked as though they could see right through him. Sure, she was rather attractive, but the fact that she was trying to kill him had slapped him with reality. “ _Let_. _Me_. _Go_.” She ordered through clenched teeth.

 

“Not until you answer the question. Are you an assassin?”

  

“I didn’t come to kill you if that’s what you’re asking. But you can suck a shot-gun if you think I’m going to tell you anything!” She answered him.

 

 _Suck a shot-gun_? Connor’s brow furrowed as he flinched his head back slightly to study her. What in the world did _that_ mean? Her breasts were crushed against him, but he could feel her chest rising and falling with each breath. The words she used had distracted him enough for her to work her leg in between them. She planted her foot on his chest, flipping him up and over her onto his own back. Her moves were a blur as she grabbed the blade he stabbed into the wooden floor next to them, and she slammed her foot into his chest, pinning him as she stood over him. _Damn!_ Her blade pointed down to him, as she spoke. “Look, you’re going to let me go, and no one gets hurt. I _never_ wanted to hurt anyone in the first place, but I was left with _no choice_!” Her expression flashed with a hint of regret, but disappeared as quickly as it came, when the amber hue of her eyes darkened with anger. “First, you will answer this; where the _hell_ am I?”

 

A brow rose quizzically as he gazed up at her. Connor swallowed and decided to at least answer. “You are in the countryside near Boston. This is a small community called Homestead Davenport.”

 

The stiffness in her posture loosened slightly as shock washed over her features. She recovered quickly, pointing the blade at him again, “And, your name?”

 

He contemplated answering that question for her. But he had a burning curiosity to know whether or not she _was_ an assassin, and he knew she wouldn’t answer unless he complied. If she happened to be an Assassin, Connor could use the help. If not...well, Connor would have to decide what to do with her then. She glared at him, waiting for an answer. “Connor,” He replied.

 

“Connor Kenway.”

 

* * *

 

 

 _You have **got** to be kidding me._

Maya nearly lost grip of the blade in her hand. There was _no_ way she had _the_ Connor Kenway pinned beneath the sole of her boot. And, Homestead Davenport; the headquarters of the Colonial Brotherhood that _mysteriously_ disappeared before the Civil War? What the _hell_ was going on? The tingling that ran in small tendrils up her arms came back, surprising her to the point where she dropped her blade onto the ground and backed away from the man she had pinned on the floor. She quickly shoved the sleeves of her shirt up on her arms to see if anything was crawling on her skin. Her back planted against the wall of the barn as she averted her eyes to study her arms. It almost looked as though faint lines appeared, tracing along her skin. The sensation faded as the lines disappeared. Something was _seriously_ screwed up; she _had_ to be in some whacked dream--correction-- _nightmare_.

 

She heard his feet shuffle along the wooden floor as he stood. He walked to stand in front of her, with the blade she held in his hand. _Connor Kenway_. Maya gulped as she gazed up at him; he was a legend within her Order. He was responsible for just about every single event within the Revolutionary era; the direct ancestor of Desmond Miles, and a descendant of Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad and Ezio Auditore. His lineage had a serious impact on the Order at pivotal points within history, ensuring it never fell during the ongoing war with the Templars.

 

And he was standing _right_ in front of her.

  

His espresso colored eyes studied her with curiosity, but his body stiffened as though he was prepared for her to attack him again. The words of Minerva before Maya had blacked out, had roared in her mind... _embark on your true destiny set out for you and the world around you._ She remembered the symbol for the number nine, that was engraved on the stone case that held the Shroud. Maya knew the number nine had symbolized _great change_. The Order believed the Shroud held a massive power that they still did not understand. What the hell? What did the artifact _do_ to her? His voice was calm as he spoke, interrupting her thoughts, “Who are you?”

 

Maya looked up at him and steeled herself to answer him. “My name is Maya Hotu,” She winced at the hoarseness in her throat. She held her chin up in a show of confidence, “And to answer your question, _yes_ , I am an Assassin.”

 

He tilted his head, looking at her as though she was some stupid freak of nature. But, she couldn’t help but feel intimidated by his presence. Her education had consisted of the history of the Assassins, the _truth_ , in contrast to what the public believed. Connor Kenway had been idolized within the Order. Maya idolized him. He still looked rather young; his black hair was loose, falling around his face as he studied her. She could almost see the strong muscles of his broad shoulders and the chiseled defined chest underneath his blouse--Maya gave her head a sharp shake. _Get a grip_! She set her jaw as she looked up at him, but continued to feel as though she wanted to shrink and hide. But, she was determined to not be intimidated by _anyone_. “What are you doing here?” He asked, as he twirled the blade in his hand and held it to her, handle first.

 

Maya snatched her weapon from his hand, and placed it back into its bracer on her wrist. How the _hell_ was she going to answer that question? Unless Achilles educated him on the First Civilization, and if he _truly_ believed it, her answer would make her seem like a whack job. Maya lifted her shoulder in a shrug, “I just...woke up here.”

 

“Woke...up?” He forced out the words as though she gave him a lame excuse.

  

She shot him a glance, as her eyes narrowed. “ _Yes_ ,” She spat out. “I just _woke up_ in this god forsaken place!” _Jerk_. Maya squared her shoulders. “I’m part of the Pacific Cell of the Assassins. I was looking for the Shroud of Turin, and ended up here. Don’t _ask_ me how, because I don’t _know_ how!”

 

The amused, yet wary look he gave her only pissed her off. Maya should be in awe, standing in front of the legendary Assassin, however he not only attempted to kill her, but he held himself with an arrogance that she never could stand in a man. _Men_ , she thought with a sneer. _They’re all the same_. At least his eyes kept off her chest; she’ll give him that much. But he only stared at her, lifting an ebony brow up in question. Maya dropped her arms to her sides, and rolled her eyes at him. “What the _hell_ are you staring at?” She snapped at him. “I need your help. I got stuck here somehow, and the stupid hologram wench Minerva told me that if I took the artifact, I would be placed on some _destiny_ bullshit.”

 

That got his attention. He stepped back, as his eyes widened slightly, but then suspicion came over his features. “Minerva? Of the First Civilization?” He asked her.

 

 _Good for you_!, Maya thought. Damn, she needed to stop being such a _bitch_. But, Maya couldn’t help herself; it was her defense, her shield, which she used to avoid anyone from working their way in. “Duh!”

 

He shook his head slowly, as he placed his hands on his hips. He turned, looking back at the bodies that remained on the floor of the barn, thanks to her. As he turned back to her, Maya saw his eyes darken, the amusement gone. “I will take you to someone who can possibly help you. But,” He jabbed his finger at her, “If you try anything foolish, I _will_ take you down. Understood?”

 

Maya scoffed at his threat. “I’d like to see you try.” She rolled her shoulders, and held her chin up in defiance. “Just take me to someone who can help me. I’m not going to do anything unless anyone tries any shit with me.”

 

They stared at each other for a moment, and Maya felt her stomach flutter at the tension between them. She just shrugged it off, as he turned away and led her out of the barn. Maya followed him along the worn path towards a house on the property just outside the barn. She combed her long hair back, and twisted it into a bun and tied it as best as she could. The thought of being at Davenport, with a walking and talking legend, began to sink into Maya’s head. Whatever the Shroud did, it probably put her here for a reason. But, since the First Civilization were cryptic _assholes_ , having to figure _out_ that reason was the tricky part. _Screw you, Minerva!_ , Maya thought to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chatper 2. There's 34 chapters total with this; but again, I'd love to hear your feedback here. Thank you!


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maya meets Achilles Davenport, and hopes that he can help her predicament. However, Connor asks for her help in return, realizing he could use her experience in building and stabilizing the Brotherhood. Now, it's up to Maya to learn how to work alongside a young Assassin that has just as much naivety and arrogance as she does.

**_Chapter 3_ **

 

Maya had gotten herself into some trouble before, but this took the cake. Never had she thought it to be possible to travel back in time. But then again, there was that piece of Eden that Abstergo had gotten their filthy hands on, that manipulated time. The Shroud of Turin was still a mystery to the Assassins. Maya was not hallucinating when Minerva had appeared to her. No way. Connor leaned his shoulder against the doorway that led to an office, watching her. Her eyes flicked a glance to him. His eyes darkened with such intensity that Maya idly scratched her fingers over her other arm trying to calm the sudden sensation that wove its way up her skin.Touching the Shroud must have had something to do with the weird feeling of tiny ants crawling up her arms whenever she felt some hint of tension from him. _Stupid First Civilization bastards and their stupid technology._

 

Her life was never normal. Born into a secret order, fighting a secret war, trying to save the world...yeah, that was completely normal. The silence that filled the hallway of the house was killing her. Connor said he had awoken Achilles, and that he would be coming out to see them soon. _Achilles Davenport_. Yet _another_ walking, and talking legend. Maya fidgeted and cracked her knuckles. Her hands needed to do something; she usually would twirl the end of her chain whip while she thought, or if she was nervous. But, of course, she left it back...in the _year_ 2012\. She began to pace the floor in front of Connor, as they both waited for the older Assassin to see them. Unbelievable, she thought to herself with a shake of her head. Her fingers wiggled as she paced, and she contemplated removing one of her hidden blades from the bracers on her wrist, so she could do something with her hands to calm her nerves. However, pulling out a weapon might not be a good idea with an already suspicious as hell Assassin in the room.

****

A suspicious-as-hell Assassin, yes, but also a _hot_ Assassin. Little flutters in her belly at the thought of her attraction to his looks caused Maya to stop, and wrap her arm around her belly. She heard Connor step towards her, but she held out her other hand. “I’m fine.”

 

He said nothing as he stood near her, watching her. Damn, he had _no_ tact, or respect for personal space, did he? The feeling calmed as she brought her head back down to reality, and steeled her nerves. Maya moved her eyes to glare at him, backing away to lean against the opposite wall. “Invasive, much?” She retorted.

 

“What?” Connor asked her.

 

 Maya shook her head. “Nothing.” Her eyes darted around her searching for a quick exit, in case something went awry.

 

The candelabras lined the blue painted walls of the hallway providing a soft light that was surprisingly calming to her. Her mind worked, trying to figure out Minerva’s cryptic message. Did it mean she was stuck here? Or when she was complete with _whatever_ she had to do, that she would go back to her own time? Gods, she hoped so. She missed having the opportunity of getting into a hot shower. On the fleet where her cell was stationed that transported them all throughout the Pacific Ocean, her cabin was meager and simple; but it was _Maya_. Just a bed, nightstand, and a place to store her weapons and clothing. No pictures of family--Maya cringed at that. She and her father didn’t have the _best_ of a relationship. It was more of a _business_ relationship. He was the head of her cell; and she was just another Courtesan; nothing special. No affection, no _daddy’s little girl_ , no birthday presents. _No_. It was _all_ about the interests of the Order, and defeating the Templars. And, Maya’s mother...she gulped down the sudden lump in her throat as she shoved the thoughts into the back of her mind. She had banned nostalgia long ago. Everything was for duty and survival. _Period_. A movement at the corner of her eye caused her to turn to the rear of the house. The soft lighting from the candelabras was enough for her to see the legendary Achilles Davenport as he made his way towards her. His cane that he had used barely made a sound, and his feet made the smallest shuffle as he walked. Despite his obvious old age, he still moved like a Mentor Assassin; gracefully and with silence. Achilles approached her, and moved his head up slightly to gaze at her. After an agonizing moment of silence, he finally spoke. “So, you are our new guest?” His voice was gravelly but the suspicion was still laced in his tone.

 

Who could blame him? Maya knew she would react the same way if some crazed woman just appeared from nowhere babbling about some hologram and an ancient artifact. But, the man in front of her was a Mentor, and Maya crossed her arms over her chest, and showed her respect to a Senior Assassin by bowing her head slightly. When her hands dropped to her sides, she cleared her throat and shot Connor a glance when he walked to stand behind Achilles. “Yes.” She answered him. “My name is Maya Hotu of the Pacific Cell of Assassins.”

 

Achilles narrowed his eyes at her, with a look of confusion. “Is that so?”

 

_Oh gods, please tell me he’ll know something!_ Maya wanted to scream. Someone had to have some answers for her situation. “I was sent on a mission to retrieve the Shroud of Turin; and I ended up here, after Minerva had appeared in the temple where the Shroud was hidden.” She explained.

 

His eyes studied her, as if he were searching for any trace of lies in her words. Both men looked at what she was wearing, and Maya had to admit; she must have looked strange. Women had worn _trousers_ in the time she was now in; but not the black jeans and long sleeved top that fit snug to her body...and _definitely_ not her boots that buckled up to just below her knees. Maya must have looked like a walking nightmare. “If you’ll allow me to explain?” She implored him.

 

Achilles shook his head slowly. “It is late. We will provide a room for you here, and once you have received some rest, we will speak again in the morning.” A look of recognition flashed over his features, but it faded away and he looked to Connor behind him. “Ensure she is settled in the guest room upstairs.”

 

Connor gave him a nod, and they both watched Achilles walk away to the rear of the house. Maya’s eyes moved to look at Connor, and he tilted his head towards the stairway. “This way.”

 

She followed him in silence up the stairway. As soon as they reached the top of the stairs, Connor opened a door and moved aside to allow her to walk in. The room was rather large; the fireplace nestled against the wall opposite of the large and _very_ inviting bed. A small desk sat against the wall near the doorway, next to a bookshelf filled with books. Double doors opened to a balcony outside, in which Maya mentally noted to be a good escape route in case she needed it. The thick soles of her boots thumped lightly onto the wooden floors beneath her as she walked to stand at the fireplace, gazing up at the landscape painting above the mantle. Connor stood next to her. _Damn, he was quiet_. Not only with conversation, but his movements as well. Maya dared to glance at him; his expression was resolved as he gazed up at the painting. “It was the Homestead before it was attacked by the Templars years ago. The whole Brotherhood, all _gone_.” His voice was monotone as he explained what the painting above the mantle was. He turned his head to look at her, “Achilles was the only one to be left alive.”

 

Maya tore her gaze from him to look up at the painting. She remembered the story of the attack from the Templars during the French and Indian war. Brotherhood members hung from trees, their corpses burnt to a crisp. She clenched her fists trying to quell the anger as the hatred for the Templars burned through her veins. Connor had to have felt her rage coming from her when he looked back to the painting. “It is slowly rebuilding. _Slowly_. But, I will need assistance. Achilles has educated on the Brotherhood and its history, and provided the training he could to myself and the three recruits I’ve gathered. But, someone with experience, and able, would be a good help.”

 

She got the context of what he was saying. Wrapping her arms around herself, Maya rubbed her arms absently. “In other words, you would like my help?”

 

He glanced at her, and..oh man, his eyes were just pools of ebony velvet when he looked at her.... _stop it, Maya!_ She tried to covertly step away from him to put some sort of distance between them and the thickness of the air that suddenly surrounded her. Connor bent down to the fireplace, putting in a fresh log to start a fire for her. Once the fire was started, Connor didn’t move for a moment, as if pondering on how to answer her question. She watched the muscles in his back flex from under his shirt as he poked at the fire. Oh for Pete’s Sake! Maya gave her head a sharp shake, trying to stop her hormones from raging like a love struck teenager. He was a legendary Assassin, and he had a life to live, a family to build eventually--why that last thought made Maya’s chest sink she didn’t know. But, she knew it shouldn’t have; and it couldn’t have. She just admired his legacy; _that’s it._

 

She didn’t realize he was standing in front of her, watching her internally screaming at herself to stop thinking of him in the wrong manner. Maya gulped as she moved her eyes to look up at his face. Yeah....truly _screwed_. “We will discuss everything in the morning.” His expression was cold as he backed away from her towards the door. “Get some rest.” He turned, and the door couldn’t have closed behind him fast enough.

 

Maya didn’t realize she was holding her breath, as she exhaled slowly. She turned to the bed, slipping the back pack off of her back. She dropped the pack idly to the floor, and stepped towards the bed. Exhaustion slammed into Maya’s body; the bed definitely beat the cot she had in the makeshift camp on Easter Island. Letting out a long groan of frustration and exhaustion, Maya let her body drop face first onto the mattress. She didn’t even bother slipping under the covers, as she closed her eyes, and quickly fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Connor took a few deep breaths as the door closed behind him. The heavy weight of the air finally gave way once the door had shut. What _was_ that? This was not normal. His eyes moved up to the room opposite from where he stood. He should be getting some rest, but the appearance of the woman in the room behind him at the moment was rather alarming. Maya was definitely an experienced fighter, but she had _so_ much anger. And where _did_ she come from? He had remembered the stories of the Shroud of Turin that Achilles had told him about during his education of the Brotherhood. But, it was very little information. Achilles had told him that there was not enough information on the mysterious artifact--not as much as with the Apples, or the Crystal Ball that he had used back in his village that led him here.

 

He didn’t know how they could possibly help Maya until she explained more of what had happened to her. She could _not_ have been from anywhere nearby. Her clothing was rather unusual, and her choice of vocabulary--Connor shook his head. He had _never_ heard such vulgarity come from a woman. He’d had a sense of foreboding earlier that day after his conversation with Achilles when he had returned from Boston. As he walked towards his room, he opted to leave his door ajar in case anything happened, now that there was a stranger within the house. He began a fire within the fireplace, and paced the floor in thought. An Assassin from the _Pacific Cell_? Achilles seemed to know what she was talking about. If there were more Assassins nearby that he could possibly get to, even with the Aquila, Connor would definitely benefit from their help. Okay, he could ask Maya about where her colleagues were located in the morning; but how did he know she was really telling the truth? His own father used to be an Assassin before he betrayed the Brotherhood and became the enemy. She could have very well done the same, and was sent as a spy.

 

Connor gave a shake of his head. No, because if she _was_ a spy, she would have killed him already. She had a perfect opportunity to. He crossed that out of his mind. The Brotherhood could use another experienced Assassin to train them. Maya would be perfect for the help. He stopped pacing, and placed his hands onto the mantle as he inclined his head to close his eyes. Visions of Maya began to flood his mind as the air around him seemed to become heavy yet again, and he was too exhausted to push them out. Her eyes were striking; a light caramel with golden flecks that flared when she became angry. He’d never seen that color in anyone else; it was different, and...almost bewitching.

 

Connor opened his eyes and pushed away from the mantle. He ran his hands down his face, letting out an exasperated breath. She was beautiful; and of course any red blooded man would think so. Only a fool would let her walk by without giving her a second glance. He allowed himself to find women attractive, and there have been a few where he was caught actually staring as they would walk by him. But, he had _no_ time to give a woman what she would need in his hunt for Templars. He would never even drag a woman into his mess that he considered to be his life. If he had never left his village, he knew he would have found a wife by now; probably had begun a family as well. As he prepared himself to lie in bed and rest for the eventful evening, he pushed the thoughts of Maya out of his mind. Because he didn’t _have_ time to pursue anything with _any_ woman. Even if they _were_ a part of the secretive Order as well.

 

* * *

 

 

_“You are the seeing eye of your kind. Your destiny calls for you Maya, daughter of Eve.”_

_Maya narrowed her eyes as she glared at the holographic image of Minerva. Darkness had surrounded them both, resembling what Maya had seen in the shrine where she found the Shroud of Turin. Clenching her fists, Maya resisted the urge to punch the damned woman in the face for all the cryptic messages. Why in the hell couldn’t they just give_ one _simple message?_ _Something along the lines of,_ Hey! What’s up guys? By the way, the world’s coming to an end on such and such date, and you have to do this to stop it! _They could have thrown in a_ Have fun, _for all she cared, so long as the message was clear!_ _They had to make everything so damned difficult, and Maya was getting tired of it. “Why do you keep calling me the_ eye _? You_ tricked _me into touching the Shroud, didn’t you? You’ve blasted me back in time in your fucked up chess game! Why am I here? What do you want with me?” Maya asked the Goddess._

_“You activated the Shroud with your touch. It can only be handled by those who are daughters of Eve. They are the only ones capable of being responsible for change. Your destiny intertwined with the powers of the Shroud and placed you on the correct path you were meant for; the path you were meant to walk to make the change that is needed.”_ _Maya was completely lost with that explanation. She understood the Daughter of Eve concept; it was similar to the Sons of Adam; both were men and women who had descended from the first human hybrids. Normal human mythology would have called them demigods, and later nephilim. “What does my bloodline have to do with activating the Shroud?”_

_“The power of the Shroud is too complex for your kind to understand. What you believe to be the power of the Shroud is in fact incorrect.”_

_This was ridiculous! Maya rolled her eyes, and felt like pulling at her hair. “That’s it,” She paused, as Minerva’s onyx eyes flared as they glared down at her. Like Maya gave a damn. “I’ve had it with the cryptic shit! The Order has been fighting to keep the world safe for centuries, and guarding the artifacts from the hands of the Templars. But, because you assholes can’t seem to get with the times and realize that no one speaks in metaphors, the Order has spent so much time and energy trying to figure out your stupid messages! It’s caused the Templars to be able to take pieces of eden over the centuries. What is it that you people_ want _from us?”_

_Maya was met with silence. She wouldn’t be surprised if Minerva zapped Maya’s temperamental ass into oblivion for her outburst, but who cares; Maya wasn’t going to scurry off in fear from some hologram. “Each piece has a purpose; as does the guardian. They entwine together as one, and work as one to fulfill the destiny needing to be fulfilled.” Minerva answered._

_Of course; why didn’t Maya think of that? Oh that’s right; because what Minerva just said made absolutely_ no _sense to her. She opened her mouth to tell the infuriating woman where to take her concept and stick it and to let Maya go home, but instead, gasped at the burning pain that suddenly flowed from her fingertips and spread over her arms. Clenching her teeth, she tried to keep in a scream as the heat on her arms flared, forming faded lines along her skin. The pain subsided, and before Maya could figure out what had adorned her skin, the designs had faded along with it._

_“It begins.” Minerva’s voice echoed as she disappeared._

 

Maya’s face lifted suddenly from the bed as she opened her eyes with a start. Judging by her position, she had not moved from her face plant into the mattress earlier. She flipped over onto her back, and held her arms over her, pushing back her sleeves. There wasn’t a trace of the markings she had seen on her skin during her dream, but the pain sure as hell felt real. So real in fact, that she scratched at the tingling sensation that ran up her arms. Maya placed a hand to her forehead, after the sensation calmed, and closed her eyes. “You’ve lost your damned head, Maya.”

 

* * *

 

 

Waking up in a strange place had never been an issue for Maya, but she knew it would take a while to get used to the thought of waking up in the past. She wasn’t above using the chamber pot to relieve herself, but the luxury of a hot water bath or shower was out of her reach. Unfortunately, Maya hadn’t packed a change of clothing; it wasn’t like she was planning on this, so she was resorted to wearing the same, dirty clothing she arrived in the night before. After her close encounter with the holographic kind, she had her usual screwed up dreams that kept her night sleepless, eventually to where Maya had given up on the hope of a good night sleep the minute the sun began to rise.

 

Achilles had told Maya that they would discuss her problem when breakfast was eaten. He had insisted she eat the eggs, biscuits, and a mystery meat that smelled similar to pork. Passing on the meat, Maya always found it funny how she felt as though she were the only Polynesian alive that never could stomach swine. She was used to eating only what would give her enough fuel to get through until dinner; and if she was lucky, lunch. Achilles’ soft spoken voice had surprised Maya, especially of someone his stature. Maya had always imagined him to have a hard and demanding voice that commanded respect; but she quickly learned that his presence alone did that. He even called her _child_ that morning, which made Maya bite back her tongue; she never did like being referred to as anything with some sort of affection. The worst, which one of the other Assassins in the Mercenaries’ faction had learned a couple of years ago, was _babe_. Trevor learned, alright; especially after Maya had broken his wrist when he added an attempt to slap her ass when she tried to walk by him.

 

Connor however was not what Maya had expected. The man had a legacy that had still been fresh within the minds of her colleagues; one of tact, honor, humility, and integrity. So far, Connor watched Maya as though she was going to stab him with the utensils she used while she ate, though tempting, and he had walked with a sense of arrogance and overconfidence that grated at Maya’s nerves in the short time she’d been around him. When Achilles had told her what year it was, Maya did the calculations mentally in her mind; his _age_ must have explained his attitude. He was only nineteen; just three years younger than she was, but not as experienced. Maya had her lifetime of training, and if the records were correct, Connor only had a few years. _Figures_ , Maya thought with a shake of her head.

 

As she watched people walk along the road in front of the manor from the window she stood at in the office, Maya waited for Achilles and Connor to come in so she could explain what had happened. She reached up and rubbed the back of her neck, trying to work out the tension in her muscles. Closing her eyes, Maya let her head fall back as she attempted to work out the kinks. Gods, she needed a massage. Her head fell forward as she continued to rub the back of her neck, while her shoulders relaxed. “Ahem.” She heard from behind her.

 

Maya swung around dropping her hands at her sides, surprised at Connor’s interruption. Achilles walked past him into the room from the doorway to sit at the chair behind his desk. “Are you hurt?” Connor asked.

 

“Huh?” A dark brow arched upwards at his question, but then Maya realized that he must have meant when she was rubbing her neck. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I just have a tight muscle in my neck, is all.” She explained with a shrug.

 

“Well child,” Maya sighed as Achilles used that blasted word again. “Come, sit and tell us what had happened.” Achilles gestured to one of the two chairs opposite of him.

 

Connor had followed her sitting in the chair next to the one Maya planted her butt into. Her arms began to itch as she began recalling what had happened from the moment she found the Shroud of Turin at Easter Island, to when she first ran into Connor. She even threw in her dream from the night before as well. Achilles’ expression was impassive as he listened, and Maya noticed his gaze zoomed in on her hands as she began idly scratching at her shirt sleeves trying to relieve the sensations that ran wild on her arms. She was glad she didn’t scratch her skin hard enough to make her arms look as though she were attacked by a rabid cat, but Maya guessed it wouldn’t be long before red scratch marks began appearing if the strange feeling kept going. When she had finished her story, both men sat in silence. Maya could feel the weight of Connor’s stare boring into her from where he sat, and she shot him a sideways glance, raising a brow in question. “What?” She shrugged at him.

 

The arrogant ass was relaxed in his chair, with an arm thrown over the back watching her as though he was trying to figure out whether or not he could trust her. He answered her with a shake of his head. The last time Maya had seen the robes that Connor had dressed himself in, was a few years back when she had made a trip to the Assassin Headquarters in Dubai. The Colonial robes were locked securely in the vault, along with the others that were preserved throughout time and collected from various locations in the world. Within the vault, the Colonial Robes were cleaned carefully, and sat upon a bust chest form within a bullet proof glass casing, illuminated by track lighting to enhance the details. It was in contrast to what Maya was currently seeing in front of her at that moment; the robes were dirty from Connor’s travels while wearing them, and the bust had definitely not done the robes justice as they shaped perfectly to Connor’s form.

 

_Stop it!_

Maya fidgeted in her chair as tore her gaze from him as she looked back at Achilles who had still been watching her, his hazel colored eyes glistened with curiosity. “Look, I’m telling you the truth.” Maya released a sigh of exasperation. “Now, Minerva said I was placed on some path to make some change. I have _no_ idea what that change is, but I have to do something; and  _fast_ , because millions of lives are at stake.” “Millions?”

 

Connor’s questionable tone shot through Maya, and frustration took over. Frustration at the seemingly illogical situation; frustration at the unfamiliarity of the current environment she was now placed in; and frustration at the fact that of all people, the two Assassins that sat in the room with her seemed to not only question her story, but also seemed to have _no_ answers to give her. “Yes, _millions_ , you pig!” She shot up out of her seat, and began to pace.

 

Maya felt a sliver of regret when he flinched at her insult. He didn’t deserve to receive the brunt of her temper, but Maya suddenly could care less; she _needed_ answers on how to fix her current problem. As far as she knew, Achilles and Connor were the _only_ other Assassins within the colonies, and if they had no help to offer her, she was _screwed_. She began cracking her knuckles, needing something to do with her hands while she paced trying to figure out what step to take next. “It’s not as though I could just _walk_ home, you know. I mean, the prophecy was first given to--” Maya suddenly froze as a light bulb lit in her head. She swung and turned to Achilles, “The records!” Her heart leapt in her chest with a sudden flash of hope as she rushed to the desk, placing her hands onto the surface. “Achilles, the records that are passed down through the Assassin Order; did they recall anything about the prophecy that Ezio Auditore was given when he accessed the temple in Rome?”

 

Achilles lowered his eyes to the desk, and Maya had hoped to the gods he had some of Ezio’s writings that not only proved she was right, but also could give her clues as to how to complete what she needed to do. Maybe Desmond’s time within the animus that had revealed the prophecy in the first place hadn’t gotten _everything_ that Minerva had revealed? The silence from him was agonizing and Maya’s hope had begun to dim. Achilles finally lifted his head to look at her, “John de la Tour did not have any documentation from Ezio along with him.” Maya turned from Achilles, and wanted to scream, but he stopped her. “But--” She then turned her head to look at him in anticipation when he interrupted a possibility of another temper tantrum. “He did not fail to educate us of the prophecy. There was no date given, however we were always preparing for it to happen which made the war between the Assassins and Templars that much more urgent.”

 

Maya turned her body fully towards him now that he had her full attention. “And what of the Shroud or any of the other artifacts? Is there anything De La Tour had brought with him to the Colonies regarding the pieces of Eden?”

 

A look of sorrow flashed in the old man’s eyes, but it quickly disappeared as he watched her. “I will have to search through the records I have stored here.” He then tilted his head as he gazed up at Maya curiously. “Tell me one thing, child?”

 

“What?” Maya shrugged.

  

His fingers gripped the head of his cane. “How have you come to be one of the Daughters of Eve?”

 

Maya blinked, as she swallowed harshly. She wasn’t one to discuss her family background, especially since her father had only treated her as a tool for the Assassins and her mother had disappeared into thin air before she even had a chance to do an initial bond with her after she was born. Maya was not proud of the fact that the line which connected her to the first woman hybrid had seemed to morph into nothing but prostitutes for the Order; to include herself. She was trained to be cold hearted, able to shut off the empathetic portion of her heart and mind in order to survive. From what she could tell during her education, the women she descended from were the same way. She lifted her hand to pinch at her temples to alleviate the sudden headache that came. “My mother was a descendant of Eve.” Maya dropped her hand at her side, as her gaze dropped to the ground at her feet. “But, she disappeared right after I was born.” Maya paused, and knew that Achilles asked for the Assassin that would validate her lineage to the human hybrids. It would be the one that was a pivotal catalyst within the Order’s history. So far, Maya only had _one_. Connor on the other hand, had _two_ ; Altair and Ezio. “I’m a direct descendant of Iltani.”

 

She dared to glance at Achilles, and saw that he sat back in his chair with an impassive look on his face. “I see.” His gravelly voice made Maya think he had been holding an important piece of information from her.

 

“What is it?” She asked. He sat in silence, his eyes studying her as she walked towards his desk. “Achilles, please, if you _know_ something that will help me, I need to know.” Maya implored him.

 

He only shook his head, and gripped his cane, using it to help him stand to his feet. “There’s something I need to show you.” He stopped, turning to Connor, who had been sitting in his chair, in silence. “Connor, please go to Ellen and see if you can get clothing for Maya?”

 

“Of course.” Connor stood and looked at Maya, his eyes roaming over her body.

  

Maya immediately flinched, as she felt a sudden flutter in her belly under the weight of his gaze. Her eyes narrowed up at him, “Will you _stop_ staring at me like that?”

 

Connor scoffed at her, and he turned away to walk out of the room. “Calm down. I was only sizing you for your clothing!” He called back to her.

 

“Get me a dress, and I’ll shove it down your throat!” Maya threatened.

  

Connor stopped at the door way and turned to her. “ _Ladies_ wear dresses, Maya.”

  

Maya’s squeal of shock caused him to smirk in amusement, and she prepared to hurl an insult to counteract his, but he was already gone. She clenched her jaw, and took a few deep breaths as she began to follow Achilles out of the room. “Bastard.” Maya muttered under her breath. As she followed Achilles to the rear of the house, Maya tried to calm her temper. It figures that Connor would be just another man that would just only irritate her. However, the butterflies she felt in her stomach every time he looked at her told her that he may _not_ have been as irritating as she thought; and _that_ was going to create more trouble than she needed.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all like this! If you could leave a comment or critique and let me know what you think of it so far!


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Maya are now on a journey to Boston; and will have to learn how to build the Brotherhood, together. Taking their experience and combining it will be a little difficult for them both; considering they both have alpha personalities.

**_Chapter 4_ **

 

_Mighty Creator, the woman was infuriating_ , Connor thought with a shake of his head as he stalked towards the road outside of the manor. When he watched Maya eat her breakfast that morning in near silence, he admitted to himself he had a difficult time _not_ staring at her. He had watched as her hand idly folded back a raven colored strand of her hair behind her ear. The sunlight gave enough light for him to be able to study her features clearly; he noticed how she had bit her lower lip while trying to decide what item to place on her plate; how an ebony colored brow would raise when Achilles would ask her a question, and how the golden flecks in her eyes would brighten and flare when she would look up at him. She was infuriating, but she was a sight to gaze upon.

 

Luckily, her temper helped put a dent in his growing attraction to her. Maya had so much anger built inside of her, and in the overnight stay she’d had so far, she had so freely hurled it at him. He had understood her anger the night before; the stress over the events that Maya had gone through would put anyone in a defensive stance. But, he _thought_ she would be much calmer the morning after she had received rest; unfortunately, he was wrong.

 

When he listened to her recall of the events, she had gone through and mentioned where and when she had come from, Connor’s mind swirled with questions he had about the fate of his people and what the future held for the world around him. But, he couldn’t bring himself to ask her; especially when she still had no answers to her situation. She was going to be a challenge for Connor to be able to handle, that was for certain; and as Connor approached Ellen’s shop to get Maya’s clothing made, he figured it would be a challenge he was willing to overcome.

 

* * *

 

 

Maya had to adjust her vision to the darker environment of the basement as she stepped onto the stone floor at the foot of the stairway. The slightly musty smell of the room hung in the air as Maya’s gaze honed in onto the two busts that stood in the middle of the room. One bust had been stripped, and Maya assumed they held Connor’s Assassin robes. The robes that hung neatly and untouched over the bust next to it held Maya’s gaze. They were feminine robes; Maya had no doubt about that. The redingote styled robes were a deep forest green color with white trim and a dark maroon girdle around the lower hip line. The hood looked to be slightly wider than the normal assassin’s hood. White strings with a glint of silver in the thread had tied the bodice top, which had low square neckline. Maya circled the bust, her gaze raking over the robes. The coat tail was split, and hung slightly lower than the knee, allowing for free leg movement. From what Maya could tell, the robes could also be worn as a normal redingote.

 

She stopped at the front of the bust and gulped as a sudden realization dawned on her. Maya felt Achilles’ presence as he stood at her side. Had she known better, the robes that hung on the bust in front of her were literally one of a kind. Sliding a glance to Achilles, she dared to satisfy her curiosity about the origins of the Robes. “These aren’t--”

 

“The Robes of Eve; meant to be worn by only those who descend from Eve or Adam. These were given to an Assassin years ago by Minerva herself.” Achilles paused, and Maya noticed his gaze fall to the floor with a somber expression on his face. It disappeared quickly as he looked at her, “They belong to you.”

 

Maya nearly choked. Her eyes planted onto the robes in front of her; there was _no way_ she was worthy enough to wear the ancient Robes. Maya had felt her heart fill with admiration as she gently placed a hand onto the robes. There was a certain allure that Maya began to feel as her fingers gently traced along the silver trim on the bodice. The Robes were _made_ for a Courtesan; just the energy Maya began to feel as her fingers touched the slightly rough fabric began to hum through her fingers and spread its way up her arms. Gasping at the sensation, Maya snapped her fingers back from the robes. She backed away slowly, and stopped as something to her right had caught her eye. Turning to a wall illuminated by candles on a small stand that stood against it, Maya looked up at the portraits that hung with writing beneath each one. She walked slowly towards the wall and heard Achilles follow her. Her eyes fixated on one portrait in particular. “Haytham Kenway... _Grandmaster_?” She read aloud. Maya looked at Achilles as he stood next to her looking up at the paintings as well. “Connor’s father was a _Templar_?”

 

“Haytham had betrayed the Order years ago back in London. He’s been trying to establish the Templar Order here in the Colonies for years.” Achilles frowned as he spoke. “The Templars have been scheming to take over power within the Colonies. They had destroyed the Brotherhood before, but we have slowly recovered,” He turned his head to her, “And so far, he has no knowledge of the Brotherhood rebuilding.”

 

“Huh.” Maya crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes as she continued to gaze at the portrait of Connor’s father. “Funny, how that piece of information was omitted from our records. We have...partial entries of journals, but none mention the fact that Haytham was the enemy. The focus, we believed, was Charles Lee.” She looked at Achilles. “Does Connor know about his father?”

 

Achilles inclined his head as he looked at his hands that had settled on the top of his cane. His silence was her answer. Maya bit her lower lip, as she began to feel regret for the way she had treated Connor. She felt extremely selfish when _he_ had to go day by day knowing he would have to kill his own father. Would she have been able to do the same thing, were she in his shoes? _Yes_. But, would she be completely screwed in the head afterward? _Definitely_. Wow; she _was_ a bitch. She decided to tone down on the insults she planned to shower him with when he returned for what he had said to her earlier. Maya cleared her throat, as well as the pity she felt for him. Emotions were one thing Maya had trouble dealing with, so she had developed a mental switch to turn them on or off. “That sucks.” She winced at her choice of words and saw that Achilles had shot her a glance. What else was she supposed to say?

 

“He attempts to rush into things. Connor doesn’t plan ahead properly when it comes to our.....work.” Achilles’ change of subject at least lightened the mood a little.... _sort of_.

 

Maya gave a slight nod, “Well, I will help as much as I can. But I need to become familiar with the environment here.” Maya slightly smirked at the Senior Assassin, “Things have seriously changed.”

 

With a sigh, he gently placed a hand on her shoulder as he turned to walk away. “Put on the robes, Maya. They belong to _you_. Meet me upstairs when you’re finished. The armory is at your disposal.”

 

She watched as Achilles walked up the stairs, leaving her alone in the basement. When she turned back to gaze up at the wall that the portraits adorned, she sighed heavily. During her education sessions in the Order, Maya had been taught only that Haytham Kenway had _left_ the Order before his son was born. Nothing else of him had been mentioned. What was preserved of Connor’s journals hadn’t even mentioned anything about his father--only Charles Lee and the other targets that Maya had gazed up at. She tapped her finger to her lips as she began to work out a plan; Connor had mentioned he only had _three_ recruits. That wasn’t enough. They needed more to properly spread the Brotherhood throughout the Colonies so it would grow and stabilize as time moved on. She turned to look at the robes that waited for her on the bust in the middle of the main room of the basement. Walking towards the dress form, Maya decided that _yes_ , she was going to put on the awesome Robes of Eve--which she thought would look _killer_ with her boots--and she would help Connor properly train the recruits, and gain more for the Brotherhood. And, hopefully, she would be able to do whatever it was that Minerva had sent her for, go home, and help the Assassins save the world.

 

Ever so carefully, Maya slipped the robes off of the bust after she slowly untied the strings of the bodice and removed the girdle. She inhaled a deep breath as she nervously put her arms through the sleeves, and shrugged on the robes. Her fingers began to tighten the laces of the bodice, but she stopped and frowned. She was going to have to remove her black turtle neck, or she would look--and feel--immensely stupid. The bodice had a low square cut neckline, meant to enhance the wearer’s cleavage; just enough to seduce, but also sufficient to secure the breasts during combat. Maya let out a small laugh at picturing the what-if of having a breast fall out while fighting; now _that_ would get a man distracted enough--Connor, especially. She gave a sharp shake of her head. “Stop thinking of the damned dude, you douche.” She muttered to herself, as she loosened the bodice.

 

After Maya had removed her shirt and slipped the robes back onto her, she secured the bodice for a comfortable fit. She placed her hands on her breasts, adjusting herself, and pursed her lips. The robes merged with her like a second skin and were surprisingly lightweight, but she was going to have to get used to her cleavage showing more than she was used to. Unless she was on a specific assignment, Maya avoided showing any more flesh than she needed to. But, she had heard legends of the ancient robes, and her body was now adorned by them. The thought began to cause Maya’s heart to race as she started to doubt her worthiness of preeminence, but the robes felt...right. Achilles wouldn’t have just given the robes to _anyone_. They were a _perfect_ fit, as though they were made just for her. She tied the girdle around her hips, and secured the two thin leather straps that served as her weapons belt, over the girdle, and secured the two pouches onto the leather. She reached up behind her head to pull her long black hair that she had loosely braided out of the hood and over her shoulder. Her bracers that housed her hidden blades had a comfortable fit over the long sleeves of the robes. Looking down, and examining herself, she gave herself a grunt of approval. She tested the mobility of her arms by rolling them forward. She smiled at the way her arms easily moved. “Wow.”

 

Maya walked towards the armory after she was satisfied with the fit of the robes. She stopped at the doorway, realizing she had _no_ clue what weapon to choose aside from her hidden blades. Her eyes darted around the room; long rifle muskets sat against the rear wall in the wooden gun racks, flintlock pistols decorated another rack to her right. The swords that adorned the rack next to the pistols looked as though they would be a pain to handle. Maya was familiar with fencing, but she never preferred it. Looking to her left, Maya’s lips upturned to a grateful smile. “Yes!” She breathed with relief as she sauntered towards the rope darts that hung in a wooden case, each individually tied.

 

It was the first weapon Maya had trained with when she began combat training as a young teenager. She gradually moved onto its successor, the chain whip. Her eyes moved to the row of daggers that sat in the rack and ran her fingers over the handles, allowing her instinct to grab the right one. The Assassins were trained to not only be a weapon themselves but to also _feel_ for their weapons they used; to treat each weapon as though it were an extension of their body. Her hand stopped onto the handle of a stiletto. She wrapped her fingers around the handle and held it in front of her face to examine it. The blade had belonged to someone; it had been re-sharpened and smoothed for a new owner. She slipped the stiletto into its scabbard and secured it to her belt on her left, and two rope darts to her right.

 

Maya left the basement and met Achilles in the hallway when she came to the top of the stairs, with her black shirt in her hand. She threw out her arms with a shrug. “Well?”

 

He inclined his head with a smile of approval. “They suit you.” He told her.

  

She dropped her arms to her sides and turned to the footsteps behind her. Connor walked towards her, his gaze raking over her new appearance. He slowed to a stop as his eyes moved up to her face and stared at her in silence. In his hands, he held the folded articles of clothing he was sent to purchase for her. Maya crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot against the wooden floor beneath her. Reminding herself that she would ease up on him, she swallowed and shifted her weight to her other foot as she planted a hand to her hip, feeling slightly disgusted with herself for the way her heart skipped as he gazed at her. “What?”

 

Connor couldn’t help himself. The robes that hung over the bust next to his own in the basement for so long had fit Maya perfectly. Her curves were accentuated, even more so with the girdle that hung low on her hips. He fought to keep his eyes off of the emphasized cleavage at the square neck line of her bodice. Her ebony colored hair draped over her left shoulder in a thick braid. Connor attempted to search for the proper words to say, without being inappropriate but he couldn’t bring himself to say _anything_. Instead, he only held out the trousers and the few blouses that Ellen had given him. Luckily, Maya looked to be around the same size as Myriam, and Ellen had premade clothing in case Myriam needed to purchase any more from her. Maya stepped forward taking the clothing from him. Their fingers brushed against each other, and he swallowed harshly. Their gazes locked, and finally, she slightly held up the clothing, “Thank you.” She quietly said.

 

As she turned and jetted up the stairs, Connor took in a deep breath as he watched her leave. He could feel Achilles’ presence behind him, and he knew that the Old Man would probably lecture him on why he couldn’t allow any attraction between him and Maya. And Achilles would be right; Connor had a mission to do, and she would need to finish her purpose and leave them behind when she was finished. Why the thought and made him feel as though he suddenly had a gaping hole in his stomach, he didn’t know. But, he somehow had to find a way to push it behind him--and quickly--because it would be wrong in more ways than one. She was from a different time, a different life; for all he knew, she probably had a man to return to. With her strength, he had seen so far, and her attractiveness, Connor didn’t doubt it.

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh _hell_ no! Are you nuts?” Maya snapped. Crossing her arms over her chest, she scoffed at Connor as he walked to stand in front of her. “I am _not_ riding a horse. The last one I rode threw me off.”

 

He only gave her a flat stare, and Maya sighed as she remembered the promise she made to herself of going easy on him. In retrospect, she knew she should have been treating him with more respect considering she idolized him....back in _her_ time. Achilles had told them both they had needed to head to Boston and handle a problem with couriers passing messages along to suspected Templars, and to secure a safe house for the three men Connor had recruited into the Brotherhood so far. And now, he was expecting her to ride a horse...something she was _not_ good at, but Maya would rather walk. As if reading her mind, Connor gave a roll of his eyes. “It would take close to six hours for us travel by foot. Horseback would be much faster.” Connor turned away from her as he walked towards a stall, and guided a horse that was already prepared to go, out of the stall. “You will be fine.” He called over his shoulder to her.

 

Maya lifted her chin in defiance as his eyes moved up to look at her from over the back of the horse. “No.” She stated.

 

“I’m _not_ going to be held back because you’re scared of getting onto a horse, Maya. If you want to get familiar with the environment, then get familiar with it!” He began to stroke the horse’s mane whispering soothing words to calm the animal when it snapped up its head at his outburst.

 

Her gaze raked over the large animal as Connor calmed it with his touch. Maya cringed inside at the thought of riding one; her first and only experience was not a pleasant one. She remembered riding a horse for the first time in her life years ago, back at the Farm in South Dakota. Karma had seemed to gun for her when a rabbit had scared the horse enough to rear and throw her off, so Maya had been afraid of the animal ever since. She let her arms drop to her sides, and scraped the sole of her boot along the ground as her gaze dropped. Letting out a sigh of exasperation, she looked up at him, “I’ve only ridden a horse _once_ , Connor. You can’t expect me to jump in with both feet. I need to adjust.”

 

He stopped tightening up the saddle bags and moved his head up to look at her. Maya watched as his jaw tightened while his eyes roamed over the back of his horse. If she didn’t know any better, she would think he was sizing up the horse and estimating on whether or not they would.... _no_. There was _no_ way she would ever ride on the same horse with him. “Look, we cannot stand here arguing all day about this. Either you saddle up your horse, or you ride _with_ me.” He proposed. “This _must_ be done today.”

 

Maya’s jaw dropped as she glared at him and she thought of her options. She could either go to Boston with Connor and help him, which she had promised Achilles she would; _or_ she could sit at the Homestead and go stir crazy. Damn. She was beginning to _hate_ this place. Clenching her fists, she realized she was not ready to ride a horse on her own as though she was born doing it. “Fine.” She said through clenched teeth. “I’ll get on your damned horse.”

 

The corner of his mouth turned up slightly in amusement as he watched her walk towards the horse. Connor wanted to laugh at how stubborn she was. How did she expect to adapt if she didn’t try? As she made her way towards the rear of the horse, he lifted up a hand, stopping her. “Wait!” He walked around the front of the horse, and grabbed her arm, pulling her back the way he came. He frowned as he shook his head, “You _never_ walk around the rear of a horse. That will create a risk of you getting kicked by one.”

 

Maya snatched her arm out of his grip, “I can _walk_ on my own, you know.”

  

Connor watched as she lifted her chin up stubbornly, and walked to the saddle. As she mounted the horse and scooted herself forward on the saddle to make room for him, he sighed heavily as he realized that it was going to be a tight fit. Wonderful; this was going to be a _very_ uncomfortable and very _long_ ride.

 

* * *

 

 

Maya squirmed in the saddle as she tried ignoring not only the cramp in her whole rear end but also the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach at the feel of Connor’s chest pressing flat against her back with his arms around her controlling the reins. They had ridden like that for over an hour in silence. The scenery had made up for the mental discomfort, but the physical part of the whole situation was beginning to irritate her. She adjusted herself and felt his body stiffen at the contact. “Don’t think too much of it. I’m only trying to get more comfortable.” She told him.

 

He sat in silence, but he didn’t relax. Gripping the saddle, Maya tried to keep her mind off of the fact that his arms felt as though they tightened their hold around her. She was hesitant to move to wriggle out of his hold; the _last_ thing she needed was to remember how she gave blue balls to Connor Kenway, _Legendary Assassin_. Although Maya had to admit, he was a walking god. The man was tall, lean, with muscular arms and a chest that would crush a woman--crush a woman _under_ him.

 

_Dammit, Maya!_

“I can’t do this!” She exclaimed. Maya squirmed out of his hold, “Stop the horse.” When he began to protest, Maya’s irritation took over, “ _Now_!”

 

Pulling on the reins, Connor brought the horse to a halt. He got off of the horse, and Maya followed. She hastily walked forward along the trail they had been riding on, ignoring Connor’s repeated calls for her to come back. The tension was getting too thick for her to be so close to him. There was no way she could be attracted to _anyone_ , let alone an Assassin that was supposed to have been _dead_ for a few hundred years. Maya learned the hard way that attraction led to vulnerability, and vulnerability led to death. She shook her head as she began to remember the mission that hardened her heart and emotions in the first place. She had spent six months undercover as the mistress to a wealthy businessman who had in turn shown her kindness and during the times she had to allow him to bed her, he had treated Maya with what she _believed_ to be tenderness. Maya shook her head in disgust. She had thought her skills in seduction had worked their way into his trust when in fact he had beaten her at her own game--and it cost the lives of three Assassins and she nearly paid with her own.

 

Yeah....never again. She had shut out anyone from working their way in again and being an assassin in a world where an ongoing war between her Order and the Templars she had placed duty over all else. She had a job to do; the world that needed to be saved. The sound of hoof beats had interrupted the internal scolding she was giving herself, and she grit her teeth, knowing Connor would be on the horse, demanding she get back on. “I’ll _walk_!” She called to him.

 

Connor pulled the horse to a halt and slid off of the saddle. He rushed towards her but came to an abrupt halt as his ears picked up the sound of drums. His eyes scanned the forestry that lined the road searching for the source. As the sound grew louder, he realized it was coming from just ahead of him--and towards Maya. She was too busy stomping away from him that she had not noticed it until it was too late. The small patrol neared her, and Connor ran to stand behind her. As he placed his hands on her arms, he leaned into her, keeping his voice low as he spoke. “They will be highly suspicious of you and I, so do your best and do not say a _word_ to them.”

 

Connor hadn’t missed the sight of her hand gripping a rope dart. _Interesting_ , he thought to himself. Hopefully, Maya knew how to use it well. Aside from her hidden blades, Connor had noticed she had only armed herself with two rope darts and a stiletto. He made a mental note to get her a better melee weapon and possibly a pistol. Maya’s arms stiffened in his grip; whether it was due to his touch, or because she was readying herself for a fight, he didn’t know. But at the moment, he hoped for the latter. As the patrol neared, he had counted eight redcoats. The two Grenadiers were the ones he worried most about; the brutes were difficult enough for him to handle on his own, and he could only imagine how difficult it would be if they focused on Maya.

 

The patrol began to pass by them, and surely enough, each soldier eyed both Connor and Maya as he had suspected. A grenadier at the rear of the formation eyed Maya longer than Connor would have liked, and Maya had shown that she had not appreciated it either. “What in the hell is _he_ looking at,” He heard her say.

 

Connor winced. _Damn_. The patrol stopped with the abrupt silence of the drummer. The largely built brute of a man gripped his rifle, as he broke away from the formation to walk towards them. “What are you two doing out here?” The Captain at the head of the formation asked them.

 

Connor kept his focus onto the soldier that stalked towards Maya. The lustful look in his features had made Connor shift to stand at Maya’s front instinctively; because _no_ woman should be looked at that way so openly. Clenching his fists, Connor narrowed his eyes at the brute. “I asked you a question!” The Captain demanded from them.

 

“We were only going on a hunt.” Connor’s tone was cold and laced with warning as he kept his sight locked onto the large soldier that now stood in front of him.

 

His gaze quickly darted around them; they were now surrounded by the small patrol. He felt the warmth spread through him at his back and glanced over his shoulder to see Maya’s back pressed against his. “I’ve never tasted the forest fruits before.” He heard the soldier in front of him say.

 

Connor felt Maya peel away from his back slowly. “ _Excuse_ me?” The dark tone of her voice told him that she knew _exactly_ what the Soldier meant.

 

“She is _off_ limits,” Connor warned at a near growl.

 

 From the corner of his eye, he saw Maya stand at his side. He could feel the rage roll off of her in waves. “Touch me, asshole, and I’ll rip your _prick_ off.” Maya had a glacial tone that had him believing it was no idle threat.

 

_That hurt._ Connor winced only briefly at her warning. “Are you threatening us?” The Captain had his hand rested onto the butt of his pistol that sat in the holster at his right hip.

 

“Leave us be,” Connor warned the Captain.

  

The sight of the Grenadier lunging for Maya filled Connor with rage. Connor struck out, and grabbed one of the soldier’s filthy hands, and twisted it, putting enough pressure on the man’s wrist to bring him to his knees. “Get them!” He heard.

 

Connor plowed his fist into the face of the kneeling soldier, but the satisfaction he felt as his knuckles crushed into the man’s cartilage was short lived. He gripped the blade in his hand that he had summoned from the bracer strapped on his right wrist and pulled the tomahawk from its scabbard on his left hip. Maya moved from him to his right, and launched her rope dart out towards one soldier, burying the dart into his throat. Connor rushed towards the other large Grenadier. He parried the brute’s musket downwards with his tomahawk, while he turned to swing the dagger in his other hand backwards, and slammed the blade into the back of the grenadier’s head. Connor didn’t give another soldier any time to lift his musket at him as he slammed his tomahawk into the soldier’s chest once, then again as the redcoat fell back onto the ground. The drummer had already run off, and it wouldn’t be long before more would come at the panic of the snitch. He turned just in time to see Maya shoot her other rope dart towards a redcoat to her left, cutting the soldier’s pained cry short as the dart harpooned his chest. She pulled back with a fluid movement and left a gaping hole in the soldier’s chest. Connor could not help himself as he gaped at her while she handled the rope dart as though it was an extension of her body. He watched her spin the rope around her elbow, and he caught sight of a soldier at her right dash towards his musket on the ground in front of him. Connor stepped towards her to attempt to help, but she struck first, launching the dart impaling it into the soldier’s throat.

 

Connor glanced at the captain that was still standing and watched as he reached for the pistol at his side. _Oh no_. Connor pulled out his flintlock pistol and fired at the captain. The round landed dead-center of the captain’s forehead, instantly killing him. Connor lowered his weapon and took in the scene around them. The surge of panic he felt at the threat to Maya’s life had faded when he looked up at her. His breath hitched as he drank in the sight of her standing in the middle of the mess they had both made; her expression was fierce as she breathed heavily in an attempt to calm herself, and strands of her raven hair caught in the breeze. As she fought, she had moved with a fluid grace that Connor found fascinating. Maya’s gaze moved up and locked with his; her eyes were swirling pools of dark gold. She was _beautiful_.

 

And by the Creator, he was in _serious_ trouble.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4! Enjoy and leave a review!


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now in Boston, Maya meets the other Assassins she'd learned of while growing up. And gets a lesson in what colonial living could be like. She begins to show Connor just how she was taught in handling things, and he sees what the Assassins had turned out to be in the future through her words, and how she was used. As they begin plans to set up a safehouse to secure Boston, Connor and Maya realize that their scuffle had taken more time than they'd wanted; and now they have to stay overnight in the city...together.

_**Chapter 5** _

 

Getting a massage or a hot bath sounded _fantastic_ in Maya’s mind as they finally neared the Boston Neck. Connor had assured Maya the horse they originally had rode on would find its way back to the Homestead, and so he _commandeered_ another horse when they had neared the town of Lexington. Maya would have argued about getting back onto a horse with him, but she was too tired to even attempt it. They both stayed to the outer borders as they took off with their new ride, but Maya had caught glimpses of the town where one of the most famous battles that had ignited the Revolutionary War had taken place. _Will take place_ , she corrected herself mentally. She couldn’t help but feel a mixture of awe and fear. The people she had been able to see went about their daily lives; some farming their land, trading at the merchant posts or caring for their livestock. But Maya could see underneath the surface; she was looking at survivors. She remembered reading that frontier life wasn’t exactly easy. Human beings fought to be at the top of the food chain with the predatory animals that resided within the surrounding wilderness; illnesses that could easily turn into deadly epidemics were prevented or cured by modern medicine in Maya’s time through vaccinations and drugs that were easily accessible at drugstores. And, an extremely brutal war would soon be tearing apart their lives just after the colonists have recovered from another.

 

She and Connor rode the remaining trip in silence; mostly due to the fatigue that had taken over Maya’s body shortly after her adrenaline rush had worn down from the fight earlier that day. As they neared the entrance of the actual Boston Neck, he had dismounted the horse from behind her, and took the reins, leading the horse on foot. Her eyes glued to the back of Connor’s head as he walked the horse through the arched entry of the neck leading to the city, and her thoughts drifted to the skirmish with the redcoat patrol earlier that day. It hadn’t surprised her that he had felt the need to stand in front of her as the bastard in the kilt went for her. A large part of his legacy to the Assassins was that he was extremely honorable and just. Even though she had been irritated at the fact that he took it upon _himself_ to keep the soldier from touching her, she understood why he did. Of course, Maya hadn’t been one to let someone fight her battles for her, but he immediately switched from Connor Kenway, the arrogant and cocky nineteen year old man to Connor Kenway, _the_ Assassin.

 

She nervously chewed her lower lip as she watched him walk; his hands were balled into fists, and his strut now screamed confidence that had demanded respect from others in his presence. _This_ was the Connor Kenway she had idolized; but Maya shook her head as she rolled her eyes at herself. Sure, Connor Kenway the Assassin was who she had idolized; but Connor Kenway the “High and Mighty” Assassin was the one she was attracted to. The man that filled his robes better than any GQ model or top athlete could, with a smooth and rich voice that vibrated her down to her core... _What the--_ Cursing at herself for admiring the way the robes had perfectly fit on his body, Maya fidgeted on the saddle. Needing to look at _something_ other than him, Maya’s eyes glanced around her, as they continued up the road. The camps of British Soldiers lined the road to the city. Although she and Connor were eyed suspiciously by the Soldiers as they went by, Maya was grateful that stares were the only thing they had received. Her eyes moved up to gaze at the city as Connor stopped the horse.

 

Maya slid down from the saddle of the horse, and winced at the dull pain that shot through her thighs, and into her lower back. With a groan, Maya leaned back, forward, and twisted her upper body at her hips. The pain only faded slightly, and Maya figured that was as good as it was going to get. “Are you alright?” His voice was soothing, but yet it seemed...strained.

 

Maya nodded. “Horseback riding and I don’t mix.” She looked up at him and added with a shrug, “I guess it doesn’t help that we went through an all out brawl, either.”

 

He only pursed his lips, and began walking into the city. _Okay_. She could have at _least_ gotten a response. Maya rolled her eyes and followed him, but her eyes moved up to examine the city, and she abruptly stopped. There was a sense of awe that went through her as her eyes took in the sights; there were no signs of electricity; horses and horse drawn carriages instead of cars, patrols of British soldiers drummed through the streets; the voices of couriers on the corners echoed through the city, announcing current news and events. It was the beginning of one of the oldest cities in the United States. Maya had found it surreal as she turned, her eyes gazing at the buildings; she had noticed guards on some rooftops, watching the city streets below. The mixture of manure and sewage had lingered in the air. She noticed a few passerby’s eyeing her clothing, particularly her boots and the low cut neckline of her bodice. The looks of disdain had said it all; not only did she not belong there, but she was dressed inappropriately in their eyes. Maya didn’t really bother herself with the latter, but as she began to follow after Connor, she threw her hood up over her head, following his example. She had hoped that Achilles would have some answers for her when she and Connor returned to the Homestead; because she _really_ didn’t belong there.

 

* * *

 

 

Connor knew that he and Maya were going to have to stay overnight in Boston; which would not have been such a bad idea, if Maya had not been there. He had spent the rest of the quiet trip pushing thoughts of her away from his mind so he could refocus on his duties; but it had not been easy when he was pressed against Maya’s back for the few remaining hours of the trip. So he welcomed the space between them once they arrived into the city. However, when they entered the city streets, he saw the look of awe on her face. He could understand that--he had the same look on his face when he had first stepped foot into the city a couple of years back with Achilles. The city had fascinated him; the buildings, the people, the different shops. He heard her footsteps behind him, and glanced over his shoulder.

 

She had pulled the hood over her head, but he caught a glimpse of her eyes darting around her, as though she were looking for an escape. As he turned to the road ahead of them, Connor had realized that she was a lot easier to be around when she was quiet. It allowed him to think, and gather his focus again. They had finally made it to the tavern in which Stephane had worked as the Master Chef. He placed his hand onto the door handle, and turned as Maya stood behind him. “This is where Stephane works as a chef. Try not to cause any trouble in here.”

 

Maya opened her mouth to protest, but Connor held up a hand, stopping her. “I am serious, Maya. Men will probably think of you as,” He stopped, and his gaze roamed down her body, as he gestured to what she wore with his hand. “Well...” He tried to think of the appropriate word.

 

“A whore.” She said it with such a casual tone, that Connor grimaced. “Yes.” He ground out. He _hated_ that word. “That.”

 

Maya rolled her eyes, placing a hand on her hips. Connor’s eyes darted up from her bodice so quickly, that he had hoped she did not see it. “Connor, really. What do you think a Courtesan _does_?” She gave a shrug, “Well, besides the killing part.”

 

She could not have been serious! Connor clenched his fists and tightened his jaw at the thought of her being so intimate with another man. He knew that there were those who sold their services to men within the taverns--he had actually declined a couple--but he refused to compare Maya with any of them; because like himself, she was an Assassin. She was not a woman who allowed men to treat them however they wished, so long as they were paid. “But that is not who you are.” He told her.

 

Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, Connor saw her features soften, but then she cleared her throat, and shoved him to the side opening the door. “You know _nothing_ about me, Connor. And don’t even pretend you do.” She ground out.

 

He watched her open the door and stepped into the tavern ahead of him. Loud music played was played by fiddlers in the corner. The sounds of laughter and shouts from the patrons filled his ears. He gestured for her to follow him, as he walked around tables, careful not to bump into anyone. Luckily, he and Maya made it to the server area without causing any trouble with the intoxicated patrons. Connor had seen a few scuffles break out in the middle of the taverns; he and Stephane had even been involved in a few. When people would partake within the taverns, they had a tendency to easily angered and violent. Stephane had a temper as well, which worsened when he would drink ale or spirits. Naturally, Stephane would drag Connor into it; not like Connor would complain, because he did like to release some frustration with a good show of strength at times, but at that moment, he was not in the mood for it. One skirmish a day was enough for him. “Connor, my friend!” He saw the Frenchman smile at him from behind the counter.

 

Stephane wiped his hands onto the apron he had worn around his waist. The cloth he usually wore on his head was gone, exposing a head shaven free of hair. Two others that sat at the counter in front of Stephane had turned immediately, and smiled. Duncan Little waved his hand up in greeting, while drinking his ale with his other. Connor was sure that others around them confused him for a member of the church. He _was_ , at one point. But since he had come to the colonies, he had offered mediation to avoid conflicts instead, when he wasn’t working with the Brotherhood. Clipper, on the other hand, refused to partake in any form of ale or spirits. Connor had remembered when the young marksman had recalled the first and only time he had drank any ale, and how he had become so intoxicated that he was rolling in deer scat, so he thought it would not be a good idea to consume anything with alcohol anymore.

 

_Yes_ , Connor had agreed, _maybe not such a good idea_.

 

He noticed all three recruits eye both of them as they approached, and saw their looks of suspicion dart between them. Of course they would think of something happening between him and Maya. Stephane had pestered Connor into spending a night with a woman at one point, in which Connor had explained that not only did he not find that to be proper of a woman to sell her services, but he held any acts of intimacy to be sacred; and he did not have any time to pursue a woman at the moment--not until he was completed with his own purpose. His mind was working up a reasonable explanation without lying to his friends about Maya’s background should they had asked, when Duncan spoke up. “And who have we here?”

 

* * *

 

 

Maya blinked at the red head that was dressed in a black suit that made him look as though he was a Priest. His Irish accent was thick, but enough for Maya to understand. She glanced at the other two men that had greeted them; a Frenchman that was dressed in trousers, a button up blouse that had seen better days, topped off with an apron tied around his waist, and a young man in trousers and a blouse, that hadn’t said a _word_ , but instead stared at Maya, in which she had widened her eyes at him with a sharp glare. His cheeks heated slightly, as he averted his gaze to the ground. “This is Maya.” Connor introduced. “She had arrived yesterday.”

 

_That’s an understatement_ , Maya thought with a small smile. “Maya, please meet Duncan Little, Stephane Chapheau, and Clipper Wilkinson.” Connor gestured to the three men in front of them.

 

Maya fought to keep her jaw from dropping; she was meeting _the_ Assassins that had shaped the Brotherhood into what she had been raised in. This was getting better and better; Maya felt as though she were walking through a virtual history lesson. Only the subjects were real; and standing in front of her, looking at her with curiosity. Her eyes moved down to Stephane’s hand as he held it out to her, “A pleasure, _cherie_.” He smiled.

 

She gave his hand a firm shake. “Where about are you from, Maya?” Duncan asked, curiously.

 

Shit. Maya didn’t realize questions would come up; it was easier to be able to make up a story, considering there was no way to accurately investigate into someone’s background. Lack of technology came in handy for _something_. Although Maya did miss her MP3 player. Her mind worked up a quick fib. “Well, I’m from the South--” Maya stopped as Connor interrupted her.

 

“She’s from a small tribe in the South.” He quickly replied for her. Duncan’s eyes widened at that. “That’s a long way to travel, lass.”

 

Maya bit back a grin, and cleared her throat nervously, “You have _no_ idea.” She muttered.

 

“What information do we have on the couriers?” Connor was intuitive enough to know the subject needed to be changed, so he rolled with it, taking the attention off of her and onto the reason for their arrival to the city.

 

He quickly glanced sideways at her, and she had nodded her head in appreciation. Maya would have to think of a full back story while she was there; just in case she’s questioned. Even though it would have been no one’s business. She watched as the recruits had informed Connor about couriers that were passing along information to an undisclosed location of the Templars within Boston. It was putting a damper on their attempts to spread the Brotherhood, help citizens that were in need, and gaining more recruits. Stephane had mentioned he received some information from a man known only as “Joe”, on a possible hangout of the couriers. Connor had rubbed his chin in thought, pursing his lips. Maya watched as he gazed absently ahead of him. “And what of the location of the safe house? Have we found one yet?” He asked his recruits as he placed his hands on his hips.

 

“There are three possible locations that can be used. Two near the docks, and one within the middle of Stephane’s district.” Duncan replied.

 

Connor stepped forward, and placed his hands onto the bar counter surface. Maya would have suggested that placing a safe house near the docks would have been the smartest move, but she held her tongue. This was _not_ her team. She swallowed the lump in her throat and shut off the emotions that threatened to show at the thought of her long deceased team of Assassins. All dead, because of _her_ stupidity. But Maya couldn’t help but remember each member, as her thoughts drifted to the memory of them.

 

Idess, of the Thieves Faction, a wonderful and _brilliant_ hacker, whose bubbly personality had sometimes annoyed the _hell_ out of her and earned Idess the nickname “Pixie”; and who had taken a brutal blow to the back of her head, crushing her skull.

 

Rodrigo, of the Mercenaries Faction, who frequently sparred with Maya during their workout sessions; and who had been taken out with _one_ bullet to the head.

 

And, Paul, another Mercenary, who had slept with more women than Maya could count, had been shot to death.

 

Maya _still_ had frequent nightmares of her stupid mistake. She hadn’t gotten a peaceful sleep for months. Connor’s voice broke through her cloud of thoughts. “Maya?”

 

She gave a sharp shake of her head, and blinked as she looked up at him. “Huh?”

  

The other three recruits had their eyes on her, with looks of anticipation. Had she missed something? Great. She didn’t need them thinking of her as a whack job, because her mind decided to remember memories that didn’t _need_ to be remembered. She looked up at Connor, who had a dark brow raised in question. “I _said_ , what is your suggestion for the placement of the safe house?” He clarified for her.

 

Oh. Right. Maya gave him a nod, and pulled back her hood so the four men around her could see her face clearly; Maya found it important to communicate with not only words, but with body language, and facial expressions as well. She couldn’t _stand_ trying to talk with someone if she couldn’t see their face clearly. It was just a pet peeve of hers. She cleared her throat, and tore her gaze away from Connor, to look at the three recruits. “Well, I think it would be best if the safe house were to be secured at the docks. It would be easiest to transport supplies in and out, as well as in case anyone needs to use the harbor for traveling.” Maya gave a slight shrug of her shoulder, “I don’t know. That’s just my suggestion.”

 

“That would make sense.” Duncan chimed in.

  

Feeling the weight of Connor’s gaze on her, Maya had begun cracking her knuckles. She noticed the other three had looked to him for his decision. It was somewhat awe inspiring to her that these men, in whom _two_ were clearly older than Connor, had looked to him for guidance; and Maya knew that eventually, the colonists will see him as a beacon of hope. The thought began to refill her admiration for his legacy, but the fact that he was _staring_ at her at that moment began deflating that legacy balloon she held in his honor. She swung her face to look at him, her eyes narrowing at him. Maya had decided that instead of anger, she would just be a smart ass instead. Her lips curved up in a smile, and she straightened her shoulders, putting a hand on her hip. “Something I can _help_ you with, _Connor_?”

 

He watched her for a moment longer, and finally rolled his eyes. Connor tore his gaze away from her, and Maya relaxed, exhaling a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. _Damn him_. Why in the _hell_ would Minerva place her somewhere, and dangle him in front of her face? Any woman would throw themselves at his feet; especially when he had always seemed to come to the rescue to anyone that needed it. Maya didn’t _need_ rescuing. She had always been able to take care of herself, fought her own battles to survive....but sometimes a woman just gets _tired_ of depending on herself for her own needs. As Connor made the decision of securing the safe house at the docks like she had suggested--which surprised her that he had actually listened to her--Maya gave herself an internal kick in the gut to bring herself back to reality. Being around the legendary Connor Kenway was beginning to slowly chip away at the wall she had erected to avoid any attachments to anyone. No; anyone who she had been close to _always_ left in some form or another. Her mother, her team, Lucy Stillman....it was easier for her to keep everyone out, and just get her job done; and that was exactly what she planned to do.

 

* * *

 

 

“There’s only one room available.”

  

Connor’s day had gotten worse. Not only had Maya delayed their trip, but the woman was just proving to be a road block for him. The sun had already set once he and the recruits had made the decision of confronting the couriers and securing the safe house. Unfortunately, since he had not enlisted the Aquila to bring him and Maya to Boston, traveling at night was not an option. Even more so, with Maya and her temper that seemed to attract trouble. They both needed a room for the evening-- _separately_. And the owner of the Inn that Connor felt most comfortable staying in had told him only _one_ room was available. One room; one bed. _Definitely_ not a good idea.

 

He knew she was being sarcastic, but her smile still pulled at him; which only made him feel even more conflicted around her. Maya’s self-comparison to a prostitute had irritated him; not only did he believe women should hold a great deal of respect for their own bodies, but women in that profession had allowed men to use them. A woman should not be treated with such disrespect; a woman needed to be cherished by a man. There was no reason Maya did not deserve that; no matter _how_ frustrating she could be. “One room? You’re _serious_?” Maya asked the owner, William Molineux.

 

William nodded. “Yes, I’m sorry. But, after the incident at the harbor, we’ve had supporters to our cause come and stay here to attend the meetings that will be held in our back room.”

 

Connor had had enough. He was not going to allow Maya to delay something yet _again_. He was probably going to regret his decision later, but he was exhausted. “That is fine. We will take the room.” At Maya’s sharp glare, he returned it to her. “Do not worry. I will sleep on the floor.”

 

She shook her head at him, crossing her arms across her chest. Connor followed William to the bar counter to retrieve what he and Maya would need for the room. Luckily, it was only for one night. Nothing more. The next day, they should be completed with their tasks, and make the trip back to the Homestead. He was not going to allow Maya, a strange woman that he found--no, _fought_ and who had tried to kill him, become a distraction. As far as he could tell, Maya had every intention on keeping a safe distance from him, as much as he was keeping from her. And of course, one who could even bear to have a conversation with her would realize just how rude, cold, and stubborn she was. The only charming quality she had was her outer appearance...and her exceptional skills in combat...and her smile, even though it had shown her feigned affection...and the color of her eyes that _still_ had a strange effect on him. Especially when small golden flecks seemed to brighten at him. Connor gulped as William placed the chamber pot and linen in his hands.

 

He sighed with resignation as he turned to her. Maya had watched him with those eyes that he couldn’t help but stare at. He tore his gaze away from her, and walked towards the stairway that had led to the rooms on the upper floor. Connor glanced over his shoulder to see that she was following him. They both walked up the stairs in silence, and walked towards the room they were to stay in for the evening. He placed his hand on the doorknob, and hesitated a moment.

 

_She was not a distraction. Not at all._

As Connor opened the door, and allowed Maya into the room ahead of him, he chanted the words over and over in his mind. Maya turned to him, and began to untie her hair free of the braid she had worn it in all day. She lifted her hands to rake her fingers through the silky black strands.

 

_She was not a distraction. Not a distraction._

He watched her close her eyes slowly, as she massaged the back of her neck. Regardless of how exhausted he felt; Connor had a feeling that sleep would elude him. What in the world was he thinking?

 

* * *

 


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Maya are going to have to deal with each other overnight. In the same room. Something that could be a mistake for Maya, when she ends up allowing a wall to fall around him that causes him to be curious as to what could have made her the way she is.

_**Chapter Six** _

 

****

Maya ran her hands idly through her hair that she had draped over her shoulder, as she gazed at the fire that Connor had ignited in the fireplace. He had left the room to give her privacy so she could get herself ready for bed. She had no idea where he had gone, nor did she care at the moment. The memories of her team that decided to invade into her mind had lingered within her mood; so she had figured it was smart of him to keep away from her until she could calm the bitch within her. The mattress she sat on was so thin, Maya was willing to trade spots with Connor and take the floor, but being the _honorable_ person he was, he would only refuse. Maya scoffed at that. _Honor_. Despite his arrogance, Connor was dedicated. The Assassins she had been raised with had lost that strong sense of morality. Maya found it sad, honestly. The Assassins had grown desperate in their losing war, and instead of doing what was _right_ , they stressed to do what was _necessary_. A few lives sacrificed to save millions.

 

There was nothing wrong with the ideals the Assassins had followed, but there were times that Maya was ordered to do things that were unnecessary. Like killing a woman who had been begging to be spared; because her witness to the assassination of her husband compromised the Brotherhood. Or recreating a Faction that was to be based only off of the assassination styles of its predecessor, but instead, women were trained to kill...and seduce. “Fuckin’ prostitute.” She muttered to herself, as she leaped off of the bed with the slightest thump of her boots on the floor.

 

She needed a distraction; something, _anything_. Walking towards the window that looked down to the city street outside, Maya took her rope dart from her belt and began twirling it idly at her side, giving the dart just a few inches of slack. The street below had nearly emptied, with an occasional drunk stumbling down the road. Guards had patrolled the streets and rooftops; otherwise, the city had closed up for the evening. Her eyes moved up from the street below, and from the window, she gazed out of, she could see ship masts from the harbor that poked up over the building tops. The spinning of the rope dart in her hand slowed to a stop, as she dropped her hands to her sides. Ships reminded her of the fleet she had spent her life on. A fleet with her father that reminded her every day of her _stupid_ mistake; a fleet that had three empty rooms that belonged to those who _paid_ for her stupidity.

 

Shaking her head, Maya turned away from the window and placed her rope dart onto the table at the head of the bed. Her fingers began unlacing the bracers that were strapped around her wrists, and she carefully placed them onto the table next to her rope dart. As she disarmed herself, placing her weapons onto the stand, Maya began to feel that no matter _how_ far away she was from the physical reminders, the mental scars were still present. She removed a blade from its bracer, slipping it under the pillow. The door to the room opened, and Connor had poked his head in. Wow, _really_? What if she had been naked? She narrowed her eyes at him as he came into the room, closing the door behind him. “ _Seriously_ , Connor?” He stopped, looking up at her quizzically. Maya rolled her eyes and dropped her arms at her sides. She couldn’t lash out at him for not knowing any better. “Next time, _knock_.” She paused, and couldn’t help the look of mischief as she smirked slightly, “I could have been naked.”

 

Maya hadn’t given him a chance to respond as she quickly jumped into the bed. She didn’t miss the look of shock that came over his features before he walked to the spot near the fireplace on the floor. He removed the leather belt from around his waist, placing it on the floor near the spot he had chosen to sleep. Maya watched him as she wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging them to her chest. Sitting on the floor, he rested his elbows on his knees and watched the fire, with a distant expression. The crackling that came from within the fireplace was the only sound that filled the room. Maya would have dropped a pin on the floor just to test out of she’d be able to hear it, but she decided to scoot on her bed, preparing to lie down. As her head hit the pillow, Connor’s voice caused her to pause. “Sorry.”

 

She lifted up her head, and her brow raised in question, as she looked at him. He had not moved, and still had his back slightly turned to her. “For what?” She asked.

 

He then turned his head, to look at her, and Maya had cursed Minerva and the artifact that practically threw her on Connor’s doorstep--he was just too _handsome_ for words; the light from the fire had cast the shadows in his features that made him appear surreal. His nearly black eyes had gazed at her with what looked like....regret. “I will knock next time.” He lowly said.

 

Maya rolled her eyes, and let her head fall back against the pillow as she gazed up at the ceiling. “Connor, loosen _up_. Sure, it would have been...awkward had I been in the middle of changing my clothes. But, shit, don’t apologize.” She paused, sighing with contempt at herself, as she closed her eyes. “I’m _used_ to it.”

 

Connor frowned at that, but he turned back to the fireplace and threw in another log, and took the poker and began to stoke the fire. Connor was beginning to think she had a traumatic past; he couldn’t figure out another reason for her to act the way she had since she first arrived. Unless she truly _was_ a cold person, he had figured she was pushing everyone out. He had spent time downstairs in the tavern to give Maya some time to prepare for bed. Just as he suspected, Stephane and Duncan were full of questions about Maya and what brought her to Boston. They were curious and asked what she could contribute as far as their training had gone. Connor had explained that he had known her for only one night and that as far as he knew, she had come from the South, and her father and mother were a part of the Brotherhood. He didn’t _lie_ to them; he just hid a few minor details--such as the fact that a mysterious artifact had brought her from the future to complete a _change_ that would serve to save the world in _her_ time. Connor could only imagine the direction that conversation could have taken. It was best kept as a secret.

 

The only part of the conversation that _truly_ bothered him was when he had commented that Maya’s eye color had been unlike any other he’d seen; and that he found the gold hue of her eyes appealing. When Stephane and Duncan had both said they hadn’t noticed it, Connor wanted to scoff at them both; who could _not_ notice something so different? He said nothing else on the subject, and he wondered if the times he had been hit in the head were finally catching up to him. However, when he returned to the room, he had seen the unique color in her eyes again when she had looked at him. He thought to ask her, but he would have indeed looked as though he had lost his head. Finally, Connor ran his hands down his face as he yawned loudly.

 

He was _exhausted_. Lying on his back on the floor, Connor’s eyes moved up to look at the ceiling above him. The next morning, they all were going to have to ensure everything was complete; the couriers stopped, and the safe house secured. Maybe, once they returned to the Homestead, Maya could find her answers, and everything around Connor could finally go back to normal.

 

* * *

 

 

_The gurgled sound the redcoat had made as he fell to his knees, holding his hands to the bleeding wound at his throat, had ended abruptly as Maya impaled his brain with the blade of her dagger. Maya pulled her dagger out of the soldier’s head and turned to face the other redcoat behind her. A scream tore through the air; Idess, her friend, was calling for Maya to help her._ No _! Maya was_ not _going to fail them! A rabid fury exploded within her, and she launched at the redcoat who was frantically trying to reload his musket._

_Too late. An enraged cry escaped Maya’s throat as she leaped into the air, holding her dagger above her, and slammed the blade home into the soldier’s neck. Maya landed onto her feet as the soldier fell back onto the ground. She crouched over the soldier, pulling her weapon out of his wound. Her head snapped up at the voice behind her. “You’re dead!”_

_She rolled to avoid the strike, and stood to her feet, turning to face her new attacker._ _Maya’s eyes widened in shock for a moment but then narrowed. It was him. The bastard that she had shown a sliver of sympathy for; Bradley West, the wealthy businessman she had been a_ _mistress to. Behind him stood three redcoats, pointing their muskets at her. But, to Maya’s confusion, the appearances of the redcoats flickered. They changed from redcoats to men dressed in black camouflage pants uniforms, donned in bulletproof vests; in their hands, they all pointed M4 rifles at her._

_Maya could still hear screams that she knew were coming from her team members. Tortured screams that called for her help. She flicked her left wrist and gripped the hidden blade that fell into her hand from the bracer around her wrist. Her whole body shook with the anger that flowed through her veins. She had to rescue her team. She was not going to fail them and get them killed. Maya took one step towards him but stopped at the sound of a little girl’s laughter. Maya stepped back in shock as the five-year-old daughter of Bradley ran towards him, her arms outstretched towards him. Her dress was a bright color of lavender; her golden colored hair swayed as she moved. Bradley turned, seemingly forgetting that Maya had even been there, and he scooped the child into his arms as she squealed with glee. “No.” Maya breathed._

_She watched as the men around Bradley disappeared into the night, and saw him spin his daughter into the air as she let out a musical giggle. He stopped and held his daughter close to him in a hug. “Daddy, why did she take you away?”_

_Maya felt her heart shatter as the question shot through her. Bradley’s daughter turned her face from her father and gazed at Maya. Tears streamed the innocent child’s face, her eyes wide and pleading. Pleading for Maya to not take the only thing left in the child’s life that ever meant something. A lump rose in her throat as she tried to look away--but her world fell apart as Bradley spoke to his daughter. “She took a lot of daddies and mommies away, sweetheart.” He looked at Maya, his expression grim. “And now, she took her friends away as well.”_

_Swinging around to calm the racing beat of her heart, her eyes landed on the gruesome scene in front of her. Idess, lying face down on the ground with the back of her skull smashed in; Rodrigo, lying in a pool of blood that formed in the back of his head, as a result of the bullet hole in his forehead; Paul, on his back, covered in bullet wounds. Oh, gods. She clenched her eyes shut, trying to will the sight away, but when she opened her eyes again, it remained. She_ _lifted her hands to put to cover the sob that threatened to escape her throat, but to her horror, they were covered in blood._ Their _blood. Maya turned and gasped as she saw Bradley on the ground, the slit in his throat so deep that he had barely missed decapitation. And, his poor little girl, on the ground next to her father’s body, her sun-kissed hair tainted in blood from a bullet wound to the side of her little head. A scream ripped through the air, and Maya realized it was her own. She needed to get away; this wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been._

_Maya turned to run but smashed into a hard chest. His hand wrapped around her throat, and she caught a flash of silver; the silver blade that was shoved right into her belly._

 

* * *

 

 “Maya!” Connor shook her shoulders as she screamed out in her sleep.

  

He had initially woken from sleep when he heard mumbling and groans coming from her as she slept. Connor had contemplated waking her but knew that even _he_ had nightmares every once in a while, so he was only going to roll over to his side, and go back to sleep. But then she let out an agonized wail. Maya was too deep into her nightmare to realize his attempts to wake her as he gripped her shoulders. “Wake up!” He called to her.

 

“No!” Maya screamed out as her eyes flew open.

  

Suddenly, in a flash of movement, she had shot up from her sleep and launched herself at him. Taken by surprise, Connor fell back off of the bed, and onto the ground, looking up at Maya who had straddled him, holding a blade to his throat. He struggled against her, gripping the wrist of her blade wielding hand, “Maya! Stop it!” He shouted at her, trying to get her full attention.

 

Connor lifted his hip, rolling her over and under him. Strange, how they had ended up this way the night prior when she _really_ tried to kill him. He peeled the dagger from her hand and slid it on the floor far out of her reach. Unlike their first meeting, he was prepared to keep her down until she fully awoke from her nightmare. Pinning her wrists to the floor above her head, Connor buried his head into her shoulder, “Maya, it was _just_ a bad dream.” The gentle tone of his voice surprised even him, as he attempted to calm her.

 

Restraining her the way he had was probably not the _best_ idea, but he had wanted her screaming to stop. Because, of course, he did not want to create any unwanted attention. _That was it_. But when he felt her body relax, and her shaky breaths had escaped her lips, he lifted his head, and looked down at her. The rage in her eyes that he had seen before was now a look of... _fear_ , as humiliation had washed over her features. She was now fully awake and was acutely aware of what had happened. And Connor was suddenly acutely aware of her lying under him. _Bad idea_. “Shit...Connor--” She swallowed harshly. “I’m sorry...I’m--” Maya closed her mouth from speaking any further as he released her wrists, and backed away from her.

 

He sat up and watched her as she sat against the bed, holding her knees to her chest.

 

Connor had been more surprised than anything when she had thrown herself at him. He understood nightmares and the torture they had put someone through. Connor had only just learned to face his fear of fires, due to the death of his mother. He would almost be _afraid_ to close his eyes to sleep, fearful of the dreams he’d have of his mother burning as he fought against the man that had pulled him away to safety. He grew believing he had failed his mother. But Achilles had helped him battle the anguish and taught him to channel it into something for the greater good. Now, Connor was curious as to what could have traumatized her so deeply. It would obviously give him a better understanding of why she was so aloof towards others.

 

As she buried her face in her hands, his chest felt as though it had caved in. Her shoulders were shaking and the hitched breathing had been the only evidence of her sobs that she attempted to keep hidden. Connor turned to scoot close to her cautiously, as he leaned his head down see her face. “Maya?”

He flinched back, expecting a strike when she suddenly moved, but she turned from him, pulling herself to her feet. Connor watched as she walked towards the window across the room, with her back to him. “I’m fine.”

 

The tone in her guttural had told him otherwise. Connor stood to his feet, and he attempted to think of something to say. But nothing came out of his mouth. It had become clear that Maya had no wish to talk about what had happened. He rubbed at the spot on his throat where Maya held the blade earlier and took a step towards her. She stood, gazing out the window, and wrapped her arms around herself. Connor glanced sideways at her, and saw that her expression had hardened; he had _never_ met anyone with such a thick wall around them. “Well,” He began, breaking the silence between them, “I want to help you, Maya.” He noticed her gaze fall to the ground, and her jaw tightened. “However, I cannot assist you if you do not let me.”

 

Maya continued to gaze out the window, and Connor had hoped she at least heard him. He barely resisted the urge to brush back the strands of her hair that fell forward, covering the side of her face from his view. Clenching his fists to keep his hands from touching her, he cleared his throat. “Just know that we will help you complete what it is you need done so you can go home.” The thought punched a hole in his stomach; it shouldn’t have....but...it did.

 

_Not a distraction_ , he chanted in his head. He decided to keep the promise to himself to keep a safe distance from her. Sleep would have been the best activity for Connor at the moment, but he turned to grab his leather belt with his weapons and the bracers next to it. He needed a walk; just to clear his thoughts. In the silence of the room, he had put the belt around his waist, secured it, and began to slip on his bracers. His eyes glanced up to see she hadn’t moved. Once his bracers had been secured around his wrists, he turned towards the door but froze at her voice. “Connor?” Slowly, he turned to her. She then turned just enough to see him. A small smile appeared on her lips, as she nodded once. “Thank you.” She murmured.

 

The corner of his mouth worked up slightly to a smile; hopefully, her walls would come down, and they would be able to work together. Trusting one another was something that was vital within the Brotherhood; and for them to be able to help one another, it was a concept they needed. Well, her small show of vulnerability was _one_ step forward. He inclined his head, and their gazes locked before he finally turned and walked out of the room. Connor couldn’t leave the tavern fast enough. He needed the fresh air. As he walked along the quiet streets, his thoughts drifted to what needed to be done the next day; securing the safe house, taking care of the couriers, and getting back to the Homestead, to plan his next move in his hunt for the Templars. Maya....well...sure, she needed his help; but he had his conflicts to solve. A part of him wanted to think realistically; the Templars are growing each passing day, and he _had_ to stop it. But, the other part of him _wanted_ to help her; the quicker it took to complete Minerva’s bidding for her, the faster she could go back to her time, and everything would be as it was for them both. Why in the world that gave him a sudden sense of loneliness, he didn’t know.

 

* * *

 

 

Maya sat back in her chair and listened for the past thirty minutes as Stephane and Duncan had told Connor all the intel that “Joe” could give them. She crossed one leg over the other, swinging her booted foot back and forth. The quiet one, Clipper, sat next to her, only watching the other three like she had, but he had listened with attentiveness, unlike Maya, who had rolled her eyes. The intel she had heard was that the couriers were passing messages back and forth between the Templar leaders, receiving dead drops only and that they had frequented a particular tavern most nights. No patterns, no other leads, _nothing_. She could see the muscles in Connor’s jaw line tighten and his brow narrowed in frustration. Who could blame him; the intel, in Maya’s opinion, was _jack shit_. She watched as his hand went to his chin in thought, and she could tell by the look of concentration he had, that he was trying to work out a plan of action based on what he had been told.

 

Warmth had spread through her at the memory of his hands gripping her wrists and his body holding her down. But, Maya had wanted to kick herself inside at the warmth she felt; one that was unfamiliar to her, and that had threatened her mental walls she kept up to keep others out to crumble. His gentle voice that had swum through her had snapped her out of the nightmare she was having; and although she wanted to just collapse into something that had truly wanted to help, she couldn’t allow herself to do it. It was as though she were crossing into enemy territory that had put her senses on high alert. When he had returned to the room later that night, Maya had turned her back to the door, pretending to be asleep; but the truth was, she had not gotten a wink the rest of the night. Usually, her nightmares in the past would just have her waking in a cold sweat; but, since he had tried actually to wake her from it, she reacted. She had been humiliated that he had seen her so vulnerable and weak. So, she had nothing else to say to him, when they prepared to meet the recruits in the tavern, to discuss the ridiculous intel they were talking about at that moment.

 

“Nothing else?” Connor asked again.

 

 “I’m afraid not. Joe had said that was all he could gather up. He did say he would meet us near the tavern at sundown to point out the one he says has been doing the most work.” Duncan told him.

 

Maya let out a scoff and ignored the curious glances she had received from the men sitting at the table around her. She’d had enough of the ancient shit. It was time to chip in and help. Connor needed to _reinforce_ the situation, and rather than do the physical hard work _himself_ ; he needed to give these recruits experience if they wanted to earn their title and place within the Brotherhood. She planted both feet to the floor and leaned forward. “Is there a particular time pattern that these couriers are hanging out at the tavern? Has anyone bothered tailing one that looked as though he was in a hurry to deliver a message? How about meeting with someone to receive the drop?” When Maya was met with silence, she shook her head. “Basic shit, guys.” Her attention turned to the red-headed recruit, “Duncan, you say this _Joe_ is pointing the guy out tonight?” At his nod, she threw her hand up in resolution. “There you go. We head to the tavern, Joe points him out, we look for any patterns, and we tail him when he leaves. See where he goes. I know it’s difficult to covertly watch him with only just the three of you here, which is why recruitment is _crucial_.”

 

Connor nodded slightly, and Maya sat back, as they agreed to her plan. He turned back to the recruits in front of him, “Well, in the meanwhile, we should go and secure the safe house, and begin plans on supplying it.”

 

The day had gone by quickly, as the Assassins worked to ensure a safe house that was a two story building a block away from the harbor. Connor had used funds that were from the profits of the dealings within the Homestead to purchase the building, and plans were made on securing supplies and furnishings. Luckily, before they had gone to the tavern to meet their informant, William Molyneaux had an extra room open, in which Connor immediately took. Hopefully, he could get a good night sleep before having to travel back to the Homestead the next day.

 

The man who preferred only to be called _Joe_ had been waiting near the tavern for them as they arrived. His curved billed hat had covered most of what Connor could see of him, and he wore a piece of cloth tied around his face, just under his eyes, covering his nose and mouth. Connor’s level of suspicion had risen at the sight of him. His voice had been muffled by the cloth on his face, as he had told them that there was one man inside that he suspected to be a courier passing messages along to suspect Templars. After Joe had given them the description and approximate area within the tavern he’d seen him, they enacted on the plan they had decided on earlier. They did not want to all go in at once, so they decided to go in with the recruits going in first, and after some time, Connor and Maya would wait for a bit. As Connor opened the door, he allowed Maya entry into the tavern ahead of him. Attempting to act as just another set of patrons, coming for a drink, he barely touched his hand to her back as he guided her towards the back corner on the opposite side of the tavern from his recruits. A barmaid came to them, asking to take their order, in which he ordered two ciders for him and Maya. They sat across the table from each other, with Maya facing toward the main area of the tavern. He watched her quietly, as her gaze darted around them. She had barely said anything to him, and when she had, it all seemed...forced. Of course, he hadn’t expected her to begin telling him her life story, but she had appeared to close herself back up from the world, and became the cold, hard Maya he met. She shot him a glance and raised a brow in question. “What?”

 

The barmaid had interrupted them by placing their ciders on the table in front of them, and turned, walking away. Connor took the mug to his lips, “You seem distracted.” He pointed out, before taking a sip.

 

He winced at the flavor; the cider had _not_ been as enjoyable as what he would partake in at Oliver and Corrine’s tavern back at the Homestead. Maya sniffed into her mug, and turned her head, lifting her nose in disgust. “Aw!” She flinched away, placing her cup back onto the table.

 

Both had pushed their mugs to the center of the table, not wanting anything to do with their drinks. “The tavern back at the homestead has much better cider. Please remind me to take you there when we return. This is--”

 

“Cow piss?” Maya finished for him.

  

His eyes darted up to look at her in shock and amusement. The corner of his mouth lifted up in a smirk, “Yes. That would be the correct word, I believe.”

 

Maya’s lips formed a small smile, but it disappeared as her attention focused on whatever had been behind him. “He’s leaving.”

 

He turned his head slightly to glance over his shoulder and saw their target walking out of the tavern. Maya stood and followed Connor towards the door. The three recruits sat in the corner near the doorway, and Connor turned to them before he left, “Once you see the path we’re taking, proceed with the plan to cut him off.”

 

As soon as they were out of the tavern, Connor and Maya had been grateful the streets were still busy but knew that as the night progressed, they would not have many options to be able to tail him covertly. It had been seemingly easier to tail someone, walking alongside with Maya; although it would be uncomfortable, to say the least, however necessary, they could easily disguise as a couple enjoying a stroll. _Focus_. “This way!”

 

The courier had turned down an alleyway, leading to the back of a building. Connor and Maya had followed him slowly, but as their target approached the building’s back door, he stopped, and Connor had seen his back stiffen, as though he suspected being followed. With nowhere close to hide, he nearly gasped as Maya grabbed the collar of his robes, pulling him towards her. She backed herself against a wall so quickly; he had to flatten his palms on each side of her head so he would crash into her. Before he could even form a thought, her leg had wrapped around his thigh, one of her arms slipped under his, and gripped his shoulder, and her other hand planted and held his face in the crook of her neck. “Quick!” She whispered. “Pretend you’ve got a prostitute!”

 

“Maya, wh--” His attempt at protest was cut off at the feel of her leg pinning him against her; his groin pressed against the juncture between her legs.

 

_Focus_.

 

Her fingers dug into his shoulder, and she lifted her hips up, which felt surprisingly enjoyable as it rubbed against him. Before he could stop himself, he moved his face closer, and he brushed the tip of his nose against her skin, inhaling the sweet scent of her; it was a scent he couldn’t identify, but it strangely felt as though it was beginning to swarm through him with each breath he took. _Focus_. He took comfort in the wall behind her as the distraction he needed to keep himself from touching her. The constant rubbing against his hips was nearly damning. She suddenly froze against him. _Damn_. “Uh, Connor?” Her voice was breaking through the haze that had clouded and fogged his mind. “Connor?” He took another breath, trying to bring himself back into that place that felt as though he belonged there.

 

“Oh _hell_!” Maya shoved him back, slamming reality back into him. “Relax your dick, Connor! You act as though you’ve never been handled by a woman before!”

 

He gave his head a sharp shake and refocused as he looked back up at her. Maya had already had her head turned towards the area where the target had gone, but he had been _too_ distracted to see anything. “Looks as though that’s the last place he’ll go for the night unless the others have something else.” Her tone was cool and collected; as though none of the sensations had been felt by her as well.

 

Connor’s eyes narrowed as he darted his gaze up to the house they had seen the target at, and then back to her. “Were you paying attention to what just happened?” He asked her disbelief.

 

Maya turned to walk back the way they had come. “Like I said,” She paused as he fell into step alongside her. “I’m used to it.”

 

For a moment, Connor saw a shadow of regret on her face, but she then hardened her expression as she glanced at him. “Courtesans, Connor. Prostitutes with knives.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this wasn't too much....but Chapter six is a turning point for them both!


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reflection on their actions, and Connor is going to try and make amends; while trying to understand Maya and why she feels the way she does.

**_Chapter Seven_ **

 

****

_Courtesans, Connor. Prostitutes with knives._

Yeah, that’s exactly what she was. Nothing else. Maya had never been treated as anything else. The whole fiasco within the alleyway had begun as a quick and desperate decision. There was nowhere else to hide, so she chose to _blend in_. She knew there were men who would have heavy “necking” sessions within alleyways with whores. By the way Connor had reacted, it turned out that they had blended in more than they needed to. And what the _hell_ was wrong with her? Her body had decided to become the backstabbing bitch by filling with such warmth that Maya had been prepared to rip open the front of his trousers!

 

Rolling her eyes, Maya bent her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. The rooftop of the Inn had been a great escape at the moment; she didn’t need to be in the same building as the very man who seemed to dig under her skin while telling herself over and over that it was just a tactic, and that her body’s reaction was the normal response to what she was familiar with. _You_ are _a whore_ , she thought with a frown.

 

She could deal with lust much more easily than the strong emotions, anyway. Sex had always been emotionless for her; there were times where she was able to shut her mind off, and it had been a numbing experience, with her eyes on the goal of that mission; or she would enjoy _herself_. They were casual screws, no pillow talk, more of a “wham-bam, thank-you- ma’am” deal. There would never be an emotional experience that those bullshit stories told of-- not for her, at least. And _love_? Maya scoffed. What a ridiculous concept. Did her father love her mother? _Hell_ no. Did her father love _her_? No. The only time she had ever been shown appreciation was--Maya’s brow furrowed-- _never_. Sure, she had colleagues within the Assassins, but everyone had been so desperate to win the war, that focusing on the mission had been the most important thing. The more Maya thought about it, the more she realized that Connor had been the first and _only_ person to show any emotion towards her. And that was only because she had a nightmare, and tried to _kill_ him for the second time.

 

The soft sound of footsteps from behind her caused her to turn her head. She pivoted to stand up, but Connor held his hand to stop her. “Please, no need to leave.” He told her.

 

Maya watched him as he sat in the spot next to her. His expression was calm; as if she had never embarrassed the hell out of him earlier that night. Clenching her fists in frustration at her stubbornness, Maya turned her gaze ahead of them. She owed him a _huge_ apology; that way, the awkward tension that she now felt as he sat next to her would disappear. Finally, she cleared her dry throat but did not dare to look at him. “About earlier...” Her sentence trailed off, as she contemplated what she was going to apologize for. It was weird knowing he had reacted to her the way he did anyway.

 

From the corner of her eye, she had seen that he turned his head towards her, watching her. Damn! The lessons she had received that contained information about him weren’t kidding; _the words he did not speak were just as meaningful as the ones he did_. Maya fidgeted under his gaze. _Just spit it out, Maya_ , she winced at herself. “I owe you an apology.” There. Done.

 

When she heard nothing for a few agonizingly slow seconds, she dared to glance at him.

 

He was still watching her, but with intense curiosity. A few more moments passed, and still, silence. Jesus Effing Christ! Frustrated at his sudden inability to speak, Maya rolled her eyes, and began to stand, but froze as a hand fell onto her arm. Her eyes narrowed but then widened and her gaze fell to his hand that had gripped her lower forearm. The sensation she had felt in her arms shortly after touching the Shroud had returned, with a sudden vengeance, spreading from his hand through her arm. “Let go!” She panicked suddenly, trying to snatch her arm away.

 

Connor’s brow furrowed in confusion as he attempted to grab her other arm. “What is wrong?” His voice had a concerned tone laced into it as he spoke.

 

_Fan-fucking-tastic_ ; she didn’t need him thinking she belonged in a padded room with a straight jacket on! He stared at her as though she needed something like it, though. But, Maya couldn’t help it; the feeling was beginning to freak her out. “Let go of my arm, damn you!” She nearly shouted.

 

Connor abruptly let her arm go, and Maya fell backward onto her butt with a grunt. As soon as he let go of her arm, the feeling of thousands of bug legs crawling on her arm had faded, and she ran her hand up and down her arm trying to calm herself, as he stood to his feet. Maya stood, and rolled her shoulders back, as she glared at him. “Look, I apologized, alright? Take it or leave it! But, don’t stand there and stare at me like an asshole!” She rubbed her arm again. “And _don’t_ touch me.”

 

He took a step towards her, his expression calm, but his eyes flashed black fire. Maya backed up steadily; suddenly feeling as though she was beginning to blur the line he kept that separated Connor the man from Connor the Assassin. “You are the most _frustrating_ person I have _ever_ met. I have tried to help, but you push me back. If we are to work together, then we need to learn to _trust_ each other.” Connor paused, as he backed her against a wall near the door that had led to the rooftop from the building’s top floor. He slammed his hands against the wall on each side of her head, trapping her. “But, you will _not_ tell me what to do. If I decide _not_ to take your apology for what you had done, you will _not_ force me to.”

 

Maya gulped as she dug into herself to bring back the inner bitch defense. Their gazes locked; if she didn’t _know_ any better, she’d have thought his eyes had flashed with a mixture of desire and irritation. _Bad idea, Maya!_

Suddenly, _deja vu_ slammed into her. She had been backed against a wall before; when Bradley had revealed how he knew what she was. Right before they tied her up and gave her the water board treatment in an attempt to get the location of her ship. _Oh hell no_.

 

She narrowed her eyes at him and clenched her fists. It was tough not to pummel him; she wrenched her neck to look up at him, but _no way_ was she backing down.

 

Knowing she was probably going to regret it later, she jabbed her finger into his chest. “Don’t you _dare_ trap me.” She clenched her teeth, trying to forget the memory that she had tried so hard to bury. “ _Ever_.” She ground out.

 

Maya ducked under his arm and opened the door. She paused, turning to him, and saw that he stepped back, watching her. His expression had still been calm as if nothing was affecting him. No words she could hurl would bother him. _Damn him_. She then decided to give him an impish grin. “See you in the morning.”

 

* * *

 

 

Connor had decided to charter a small ship to take him and Maya back to the Homestead.

 

He had already instructed Stephane, Duncan, and Clipper to not only concentrate on finding potential recruits to the cause but to also ensure the supplies they had ordered arrived safely to the safe house. When it was time to leave Boston, he knew that Maya would argue and delay their trip back with her refusal to ride a horse; and he was _not_ going to have her ride with him again. As they boarded the small ship, Maya wordlessly walked towards the bow and rested her elbows on the rail. Luckily it wouldn’t be a very long trip back.

 

The night before had not ended as he originally intended it to. He had originally sought her out to tell her he was not angry for what happened in the alleyway. But, her stubborn streak that seemed to be all he had seen from her had taken over, when all he did was attempt to explain to her his reasoning for being there. But, unfortunately, the words were lost when she had snapped at him. However, he had gotten confused as to why she suddenly panicked when he touched her; she did not seem to mind before. So, he let her be, and they barely spoke that morning before boarding the ship.

 

It almost amazed him with how eventful the past few nights had been; but then again, Connor had never led a boring life. His life had been harsh, and though he felt as though he’d recovered only slightly, he still had been fighting each day for survival. The recruits he had brought into training in Boston had gone through harsh experiences, needing to fight for what was right. Each had proven the desire to do so, and continued even in Connor’s absence from the city, and so he had placed his trust in them. Connor wanted to learn to trust Maya. And although he did not want to admit it out loud, he truly needed her help. She had the experience, and from what he had seen from her in combat, she definitely could contribute her skills to not only him but any others they recruit as well. But, she had always pushed him away when he felt he had been able to begin breaking the walls she had erected around herself.

 

He watched her gaze at the water below from the bow, as the breeze blew strands of her hair into her face, which she had quickly pushed back with her hand. Connor had sailed into fierce storms in the ocean before; and Maya reminded him of _just_ that--unpredictability.

 

He had already reached her at the bow before he realized that he had been walking towards her. She stood up, stiffening her back as he neared. “Are you alright?” He asked her.

 

Wrapping her hands around the rail, Maya answered him with a nod. She kept her gaze onto the railing, not bothering to look at him. “You know, it seems as though the ocean is the only thing that can bring me to peace.” She had such sadness in her tone that Connor had to fight the urge to reach out and comfort her. He placed his hands on the rail next to her and listened. “I was raised on a ship in the South Pacific Ocean. Of course, it’s warmer there than it would be here. But,” Maya sighed heavily, as she kept her gaze on the water below them. “I miss it. Damn it; I miss it.”

  

Connor knew what it was like to miss home; to miss the familiarity, the security. He could always just put his hidden blades to rest, and go back to his village. But, Maya? No. She had _nowhere_ else to go. He would never have been able to bear with that, but she handled it as though she’d done it all the time....or she had been running from something. That _had_ to have been it. She must have felt safe, being so far away from whatever it was she had been trying to escape. As she began rubbing her arms idly while gazing absently at the water, he noticed she had grimaced. “What was it like in the Brotherhood where you are from?” He asked her curiously.

 

She let out a bitter laugh and looked at him. By the Creator, her eyes were stunning.

 

Connor had noticed the golden hue in their color, but he had also seen just how much emotion had been reflected within them. “Harsh. We’re losing the Templar war, so everyone is so desperate, that missions are completed with a great deal of intensive motivation. The Assassins don’t care _how_ the mission’s completed, so long as it’s done. Somewhere, somehow, the Assassins had lost the upper hand...” Her sentence trailed off as she looked down to her feet. “We were constantly betrayed from within. And _now_? The world will be destroyed if something isn’t done.”

 

He pushed away from the railing, watching her as an array of emotions played across her features; worry, anger, sadness, _determination_. She lifted her gaze to look at him and lifted her slender shoulder in a shrug. “Maybe I was sent here to help stabilize the Brotherhood? That’s the only thing I can think of at the moment, besides--” Her mouth abruptly shut, and as Connor urged her to continue, she shook her head. “Nothing.”

 

“No, what is it?”

  

“Nothing, Connor.” She then closed herself up again; and turned her attention to the water below the bow.

 

It was obvious; Maya had been holding back. Was something going to happen? He knew the escalation between the colonists and the British Crown was growing; maybe it would eventually boil over? What had been made clear was that he and Maya’s goals were aligned. Which was an advantage. Something that they would need to begin preparations for when they returned to the Homestead.

 

* * *

 

 

Maya and Connor had walked along the docks towards an older man with graying hair and a belly that screamed alcoholic. His face brightened at the sight of them, and he hastily walked towards them. “Welcome back, Captain!” He greeted cheerfully with an accent that reminded Maya of a pirate. She had waited for him to scream _garr_! But, to her dismay, it didn’t happen.

 

When he neared them, his focus left Connor, and a look of shock came over his features as he eyed Maya. He slowed to a stop, his gaze still on her. Maya narrowed her eyes as she glared back at him, and placed her hands on her hips. “You mind closing your mouth, at least?” She snapped.

 

He gave his head a sharp shake, and Maya had noticed Connor had shifted to stand halfway in front of her view. _Men_. But what was different, was that the older man had a mixture of shock and recognition on his face as he stared at her. He blinked and looked up at Connor when the Assassin’s voice brought him back to Earth. “Mr. Faulkner, please meet Maya Hotu. She arrived a few nights ago from the South.” Connor introduced with the now made-up back story. “This is Mr. Robert Faulkner, Maya. He is the first mate of the Aquila.”

 

Maya slightly flinched at Robert’s stare. “Well, I would say hello, but I’d rather know what the _hell_ your problem is?”

 

“I apologize, it’s just that...” He tilted his head, studying her. “You look surprisingly familiar. Have we met before?”

 

Maya raised a brow in question and exchanged glances with Connor. She shook her head, “Trust me; I would remember if we’d met.”

 

“Mr. Faulkner, please prepare the Aquila for Boston tomorrow. We have secured a safe house, and I will be bringing supplies from here to the recruits.” Connor told him, changing the subject and therefore, taking Robert’s attention off of her.

 

Maya shook her head, listening to Connor instructing Robert regarding the trip planned for the next day. She turned, suddenly becoming interested in the legendary Aquila, the ship of the Colonial Brotherhood. It had been used to transport the Brotherhood, clear trade routes which made it safer for the economy _and_ helped it prosper, and it had been involved in some notable naval warfare battles during the Revolutionary War. One that Maya had _almost_ let slip from her mouth while talking to Connor on the ferry that had brought them back. She could just imagine the ramifications if he had found out the outcome of _everything_. To include the horrible fate his people had been suffering. Connor would have reacted before history had taken its natural course, and that’s _exactly_ what Maya needed; to be responsible for yet _another_ failure. No; Maya had come to the conclusion that could make sense, of reestablishing the Brotherhood in the Colonies, and securing the place of the Assassins.

 

It had been pretty obvious Connor needed desperate help; the recruits were in dire need of combat training, _some_ weapons training, tracking, stealth, and just about damned near everything Maya could think of. With a shake of her head, she pinched the bridge of her nose. This was going to be a _very_ long stay. From what she could remember, it took almost four to five _years_ , mainly during the war, to stabilize the Brotherhood. But, according to history, the Brotherhood was already created and already in place; so what was it that would cause the Shroud to send her back? Perhaps to teach the Brotherhood what she knew? That could have been it.

 

Her head snapped up at Connor’s voice surprising her from her side. “She is a solid ship. Fast, small enough to maneuver easily, and can fire a good amount of artillery.” He looked at her, his nearly black eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. “Did you want to board the ship?”

 

_Oh, she wanted to board his ship, alright_ \--- _Shut up, Maya!_

Connor flashed a heart-stopping grin, and gestured to the Aquila, “Come with me.”

 

 Maya tried to calm her pulse. Her heart had begun hitting against her chest; _stupid, Maya_! She began scolding herself inwardly for what she had decided to do the night before in the alleyway with him. Usually, it was a man that turned absolutely everything into some X- rated vision, but Maya was kicking herself for taking on that role. Maybe it was the way his robes had defined the broad build of his shoulders that felt so wonderful when she dug her fingers into them the night before. Or, how well his hips had fit in between her legs when she had one leg wrapped around them. She gulped harshly, as he gazed at her, waiting for her to respond. Yeah, it was all of the above, with option B included; the way he would look at her filled her with a warmth that spread throughout her body, causing her damned arms to tingle so much that they had itched.

 

She began running her fingers along her arms, trying to relieve the sensation, as well as avoiding the look of a poison oak victim. _Damn it_! Finally, Maya nodded and followed him towards the dock ramp leading to the ship. “Make sure you step with your right foot first on the ramp. Mr. Faulkner says it is bad luck if you don’t.” Connor told her from over his shoulder.

 

Maya scoffed at that, rolling her eyes, “Really? You actually _believe_ that shit?” He gave her a shrug. Maya might as well respect the legendary Aquila, and follow Connor’s instruction. Even if it _was_ crap.

 

They stood on deck, and Maya walked the deck, running her fingers along the wooden rails. It was not as big as the _Altaïr II_ , the ship she had been raised on, but the _Aquila_ was a beautifully crafted vessel. She bent her head back, looking up at the folded sails. Maya _loved_ anything that had to do with the water; it gave her that sense of nostalgia that she had kept looking for, but could never grasp. It seemed to be the only aspect that had brought her peace.

 

Taking a deep breath, Maya closed her eyes and allowed her senses to stimulate just for a moment--the sounds of the birds, the light lapping of the water against the vessel, the light smell of salt within the air, the wood beneath her fingers. She opened her eyes and caught sight of the helm. A wide grin spread on her lips, and she walked towards the wheel. Gripping her fingers around the wooden spokes, and bit her lower lip, and tilted her head. Maya had never had the opportunity to control a ship or a small boat. She had always wanted to Captain a ship; just once. Connor stood on the top step next to the helm and rested his elbow on the wooden railing. “So, how difficult is it to steer this thing? Are you able to control the rudder?” Maya winced, realizing in _her own_ mind, just how _horrible_ that sounded.

 

“Yes. It was difficult at first, but I had eventually learned.”

  

Gods, she wished she would stop acting like a hormone-crazed teenager--or at least an immature one. “There’s more to see, Maya.” Connor gestured for her to follow him.

 

With a heavy sigh, Maya had followed him towards the hatch leading to the lower deck. There was no way she would let her guard down; especially around Connor. It would be a complete threat to Desmond’s existence, hence, the end of the world; and Maya along with it. Maya liked living. She could see the cannons pulled back, and their hatch doors closed. The smell of gunpowder clogged her nostrils, and she held her hand up to her nose in an attempt to block out the strong smell. Connor glanced at her, and the corner of his mouth lifted up in a smirk, “Topside?”

 

Maya eagerly nodded, and she couldn’t get up the stairs fast enough. “I apologize, but our reserve is fully supplied. I didn’t realize you would have a problem with the smell of gunpowder?” Connor asked, as soon as he closed the hatch.

 

Maya swallowed harshly and took grateful breaths of fresh air. “It’s not that; I’m just not used to it. It was a little overwhelming.”

 

He then gestured towards the door leading to what Maya could only assume was the Captain’s Cabin. Maya walked towards the door that sat nestled under the helm. She opened the door and looked inside. There were a large desk and chair in front of the window adjacent from the door. There was another door against the side wall to the left inside of the room that Maya could see, in which she guessed was the suite in which Connor would be sleeping…probably on a large bed—she gave a sharp shake of her head. Stepping back abruptly she smiled, “Okay, saw the cabin, let’s go!”

 

 She hit a rock hard chest and felt his hands land on her arms to steady her. “What is wrong?”

 

Damn. Her voice betrayed her; even _she_ heard the shakiness in her tone. “Uhm,” She paused, wondering what to say. _Sorry, I just nearly had a great fantasy about you in a big bed, and myself probably seducing you because I’m nothing but a_ whore _for the Assassins!_

Maya frowned as reality slapped her in the face. That’s all she _was_ seen as. It was all she was good for; nothing more. Even if she _was_ able to open up to Connor, why would he ever want to get to know her? No one ever cared to find out what made her _tick_ ; no one ever cared to listen to what Maya _needed_. She shrugged her arms out of his hold and walked towards the ramp of the ship. “I’m going back to the manor to see if Achilles needs anything.” She called over her shoulder to him.

 

For a sliver of a moment, she had begun to let herself open up. He asked for her to build trust with him, but why bother if she would just leave anyway? She would go _back_ to 2012, and Connor would have already been long gone; the one person that had said he wanted to help would be long gone, and she would be alone.

 

And, for the first time in her life, the feeling _sucked_.

* * *

 


	8. VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things happen that causes Maya to make a decision that she hopes will put her on the path she's meant for; much to Connor's resistance to it. The two realize that they may have their work cut out for them in finding common ground. Like Connor, Maya is one that could be known as "bullheaded", and if they can move past their own egos, perhaps they can both lead the Brotherhood to where its meant to be? Especially since the Shroud is beginning to influence them both in making decisions that could ruin it all.

_**Chapter Eight** _

 

****

After leaving Connor at the ship, Maya had decided to walk towards the back of the manor, to the point that overlooked the cliffs. The concept of loneliness had _never_ bothered her before. She had in fact valued the little amount of time she would have, and spent it on the main deck of the _Altaïr II_ , gazing at the endless desolation of the ocean. One would feel that it would amplify the feeling of isolation, but it instead brought Maya peace. The sea was not to be taken lightly; she could definitely relate to _that_. It was unpredictable, and at times could be deceitful. One would let their guard down, underestimate its ability, and that vulnerability would allow the sea the strike, swallowing everything in its path, and calm itself as though nothing had ever happened. That was who she had been.

 

“Abigail loved the water.”

  

Maya turned to the soft-spoken voice and watched Achilles walk towards her. “Hello, Achilles.” She greeted with an incline of her head as he stood next to her.

 

“Welcome back, child.” His smile was warm, bringing Maya a sense of comfort. “And how was Boston?”

 

Great. How was she supposed to answer that question? _Oh wonderful, actually. Yeah, I tried to kill Connor, and we dry humped in an alleyway when we should have been tracking our target._ No, that would probably give the Old Man a heart attack. “Strange, to say the least.” She replied. “The safe house has been secured, and Connor had ordered supplies to be stashed there. However we.... _tracked_ the suspected Courier, but unfortunately, we had not been able to end the problem. The information the recruits had received was too vague. So, the recruits will keep watch on the couriers. Honestly, I don’t see how that threat will be handled with only _three_ recruits for a city that large.”

 

He nodded slowly, “I agree. There should be at least one Assassin per district that will oversee the area, and supervise the training of the recruits.” They both turned their gazes to the view ahead of them. “Abigail was drawn to the sea. She felt that she could understand it, and relate to it.”

 

Maya grunted in agreement. “I was raised on the sea. I’m the same way. Too much time away from it just...feels wrong.” She glanced at him and saw a hint of sadness in his gaze. Maya idly rubbed her arms and decided to change the subject. “Thank you, Achilles.”

 

He turned to her, with a puzzled expression. “For what, child?”

 

His use of the word didn’t bother her as much as it did when she first met him. Her respect for him and his legacy had comforted her in a way. She gave a shrug and looked down to the ground at her feet. “For allowing me to stay here. You didn’t have to do that. Some strange woman, babbling about being from another time?” Maya turned her gaze to him. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had turned me away, instead.”

 

Achilles rested both of his hands onto the top of his cane. He tilted his head to the side, studying her for a moment, and smiled slightly. “You would be surprised at some of the stories we’ve heard in the past. The Creed is not to be taken lightly, what with the knowledge we have regarding the truth of our beginnings.” He placed a hand gently on her arm. “And I would _never_ have turned you away, child. You had nowhere else to go, and you asked for our help.”

 

It felt strange for her to receive such compassion from him; her own father had been cold and emotionless. Maya never openly asked for some sort of comfort when she knew she had needed it. With no mother to raise her, Maya’s father treated her as though she were just a byproduct of a one night stand; as though he _had_ to acknowledge her existence. So, she had to rely on her own instincts and training and learned to shut off her emotions. But, Achilles had been slowly chipping away at the dark wall she used to block anyone out. As if he had read her thoughts, he had given her arm a light squeeze, “Compassion within the Brotherhood builds trust. It provides us with a sense of honor, and makes us human.”

 

Maya frowned slightly, “That’s the problem, Achilles. I don’t feel human anymore.”

 

His gaze turned to one of concern. “Open yourself up slowly and steadily, Maya. You will learn to be more than just an Assassin, and you will see that you _are_ more than that.”

 

* * *

 

 

Connor’s stride towards Achilles and Maya had come to a halt at what he had overheard from her.

 

_I don’t feel human anymore._

His brow furrowed, as he watched her look at the ground at her feet. Connor could relate to that statement; he had felt so numb after the death of his mother, that he had only done what was expected of him and what he was told to do. He had developed a sense of justice for the death of his mother; it was such a substantial value that it had embedded itself into his own being. Each time he had seen preying on the weak, he had been reminded of his people; of his mother. Once Achilles had finished speaking with Maya, strode towards them. “We have secured the safe house in Boston.” He announced.

 

Achilles nodded and gestured to Maya with his hand. “Maya had already informed me.

 

She also says you had not eliminated the threat; that you had tracked the target, but the information was vague.”

 

Connor darted a glance at Maya, who averted her eyes from him. Had she told Achilles what had happened between them? _Everything_? “Well, we decided it would be best to keep watch, but also to focus on recruitment and fully supplying the safe house.” He kept the tone in his voice even, to avoid any indication of the warmth he felt at the memory of his lips lightly skimming her slender neck.

 

Achilles would not have been pleased if he knew; but he had not shown any sign of knowing, despite the apparent tension that could be felt between her and Connor. “Well, Maya had made a sensible suggestion, actually. The three recruits should be quartered here in the old Brotherhood house. They need to be trained, educated in the ways of the Brotherhood, and travel can be done with the Aquila or by horseback to give experience and continue recruitment.”

 

Connor shook his head. The city of Boston was too fragile at the moment, teetering between the control of Templar and Assassin. “That would be unwise. Achilles, you know the city will fall into the hands of the Templars, and before long, they will control the city.”

 

“That’s the thing, Connor. Just until one receives enough training and experience to receive their title of Assassin. There’s just no way that any progress can be made with only _three_ recruits.” Maya crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “It would be a lot smarter to have at least _one_ Assassin stationed within the city to oversee the recruitment and training from there. That way, the city _will_ be secured.”

 

Connor’s patience began to wear thin. He had no issue with her _helping_ with the Brotherhood, but to tell him what to do when it came to those he had worked so hard to recruit, was overstepping the boundary. “And what would _you_ know? This is not your environment. There is a threat of a war brewing between the colonists and the British Crown. The city _cannot_ afford to have them absent at _any_ time.” The irritation had been evident in the strained tone of his voice, causing Maya to flinch momentarily.

 

He felt the regret jab at his heart, but he pushed it aside as her features hardened. “You naive, _arrogant_ ass!” She sneered at him. “I know what I’m doing. I’ve been doing this for as long as I could remember!” Maya stepped towards him, jabbing her finger into his chest. “I have more experience than you do! If you don't bring them here to train them properly, the city _will_ fall! Either you bring them here, or I leave and stay with them, and _I_ will train and educate them! Your choice.”

 

“Enough!” Achilles demanded of the two Assassins.

 

They locked gazes, and she had lifted her chin in the stubborn defiance that he had grown to admire. But, there would be _no_ way he would tell her that; and how _dare_ she accuse him of being arrogant and naive? _She_ was attempting to take control of an entirely unfamiliar environment! His eyes trailed down to her mouth, and he suddenly envisioned being able to trail his thumb along her bottom lip; curious as to what it would feel like if he had been bold enough to press his lips to hers. “Maya?” Achilles’ voice caused her to tear her gaze away from him, and she turned her attention to the Old Man. “You will remain here at the Homestead. Connor, it would be sensible to bring the recruits here. Either you or Maya will rotate with one recruit to the safe house. Understood?”

 

Connor’s intake of his breath had shaken slightly, and Maya’s glare at him had told him she noticed it. He averted his gaze to Achilles and saw a hint of amusement in the Old Man’s otherwise calm and collected expression. Connor inclined his head, understanding Achilles instructions. At least the Old Man compromised. “Yes.”

 

Her eyes narrowed at him, and she quickly glanced at Achilles, “I’m going inside.” She then glared back at Connor, forcing a smile as she tilted her head. The sarcasm she displayed was getting _extremely_ irritating. “Are we heading for Boston in the morning, _Master_ Connor?”

 

His fists clenched, as his jaw tightened. _Never_ in his life had he dealt with a woman that was so frustrating! He had seen her vulnerable, which had panged his heart to see her in such a state of fear; but she would immediately turn into a beautiful ball of fury at a moment’s notice! Maybe he _should_ tell her to stay in Boston; she had seemed to dig into his skin, but at the same time, she consistently challenged him. He was used to others being fearful of him, even when he had no intention of doing harm. But Maya had always stood up to him, accepting the challenge he presented her.

 

When he only stared at her, she finally gave a shake of her head and shoved past him. “ _Dickhead_.” She muttered as she went past him.

 

_What?_

He turned watching as she walked marched towards the Manor. Shaking his head, he could only guess that by the seething of her voice, that it was yet another vulgar insult she hurled at him. “How am I to deal with _that_ ,” He gestured towards the direction Maya had left in. “When I have to hunt the Templars and secure the Brotherhood?” Connor asked Achilles.

 

Achilles had a small smile, as he looked up at Connor. “Abigail had quite a temper as well. Trust me, Connor; they learn to allow you in. She will learn to trust you and the Brotherhood in time. But, of the two of you, leading the Brotherhood, one must be patient with the other. Learn from each other, Connor.” Achilles began to walk away from him, but paused, and glanced over his shoulder at him. “You can teach her, that not _everyone_ is going to do her harm.”

 

Teach her that not _everyone_ will do her harm? How was he supposed to do _that_?!

 

* * *

 

 

Maya was _seething_. She began pacing the floor in her room; the sound of her boots hitting the floor with a _thunk_ was starting to grate on her nerves that had already been pulled. What would _she_ know? Well, he was sorely mistaken if he thought she had known _nothing_ of how the Brotherhood was supposed to work. The pain, blood, sweat, tears-- _everything_ Maya had to go through to be the person she was--had not been suffered for nothing! If he felt her suggestion was a bad idea, it was no wonder she was sent to help stabilize the Brotherhood.

 

She stopped suddenly at the knock on her door. “Come in.” She called out.

 

The door opened, and Maya’s heart had skipped a beat at the sight of Connor poking his head in. But, his arrogant statement to her earlier had only angered her again. Crossing her arms over her chest, Maya narrowed her eyes at him. “You have _some_ nerve.”

 

He held up his hands, and his jaw tightened momentarily, but his features then relaxed. “I only came up to apologize.”

 

Maya leaned her ear in his direction, “Come again?” “I am sorry for what I had said to you earlier.”

 

Trying to stay angry with him was becoming difficult for her. With a roll of her eyes, Maya let her arms drop at her sides. She pinched the bridge of her nose, finding some reason-- _anything_ \--to be angry with him. It seemed to be easier to handle rather than trying to be civil and block out the attraction she was beginning to feel towards him. He was arrogant--but young; he had a bad temper--so did she; he was naive--he had only a few years of training; his father was the Grandmaster Templar--and she promised she would go easy on him. _Damn it_!

 

“Look,” Maya looked up at him. _Damn those expressive, intense, incredible eyes_! She averted her gaze to the ground at her feet. “I’m only trying to help here. The way I see it is that I help you, you help me. Once everything’s done,” Her eyes moved up to meet his. “I go home, and you go about your life.” She told him with a shrug of her shoulder.

 

Maya waited for him to respond, but he only watched her. “And...I’m sorry for being such a bitch.” She quickly added.

 

He had a look of such confusion that she had to stifle a laugh. Shaking her head at her stupidity for using the modern vocabulary, Maya _translated_ it for him, “In other words, _very_ unkind.”

 

Connor nodded his head slowly and then gave a shrug. “You had your reasons.”

 

Silence. _Again_. Maya couldn’t _stand_ it when he said nothing, and instead just _stared_ at her. Had he been around in _her_ time, she probably would have claimed dibs; she knew other women within the Order would have pounced. But he _wasn’t_ in her time. He was Desmond Miles’ ancestor, for crying out loud! _If only_ \--Maya’s thoughts were suddenly cut as a burning sensation webbed around her arms; from the inside out. Gasping, she hastily rolled up her sleeves, and her eyes opened wide with fear. “Maya, what _happened_?” Connor’s hand grabbed onto hers pulling her forward so he could get a good look at her arm.

 

As soon as he touched her, the pain abruptly stopped. The pain wasn’t what had her trembling; it was the reddened lines woven around her arms. Maya narrowed her eyes onto the lines and saw the faded beginnings of...designs-- _glyphs_. He turned her palm up as he held it, and her pulse raced as he gingerly touched his fingers to the lines on her forearm. His head shot up, and his nearly black eyes flared with suspicion and irritation. “Did you _do_ this to yourself?”

 

Maya blinked at him, and then scoffed, “What? Don’t be ridiculous! They just _appeared_ out of nowhere! I felt this burning pain, and that’s what got me rolling up my sleeves to find these!” She attempted to pull her hand back out of his, but he tightened his grip to keep a hold on her. “Let _go_.”

 

“What are they?”

 

“Damned if I know!” She jerked her arm back towards her again, and this time, he released it, causing her to step back from the sudden release. Her eyes plastered onto the lines again. She took one hand and traced her fingers along her other arm. “What the?”

 

Realization dawned upon her as she studied the glyphs. Her fingers deftly unlaced the bracers around her wrists, and she let them both drop to the floor. The lines were too faded to _clearly_ see, but Maya looked closer and could recognize at _least_ one, that adorned her inner wrist. “They’re the ancient writing of my people.” She pointed to the faded symbol on her wrist, “At least I know _that_ one is. It’s the symbol for the First Civilization--well, Minerva, actually. But why...” Her voice trailed off as she suddenly remembered Minerva’s words:

 

_Your destiny intertwined with the powers of the Shroud and placed you on the correct path you were meant for; the path you were meant to walk to make the change that is needed._

She had stared blankly as the words had gone _over_ and _over_ in her mind. “Maya?” Connor raised a brow and peered at her. When he got no response, he waved a hand in front of her eyes. “ _Maya_!”

 

Blinking her eyes, she darted her gaze at him. “My arms. They had been itching like crazy since I touched that stupid artifact! Minerva came to me in a dream--” Maya pursed her lips, as her eyes dropped to her hand that he had held. She could _still_ feel the comforting warmth of his touch. If she told him about her dream, she would sound _crazy_.

 

“Maya, what did she say in your dream?” He asked her.

 

“I _activated_ the Shroud when I touched it. Supposedly only those descended from Eve can handle the Shroud.” She let out a heavy sigh. “I just assumed it was because we would be immune to its power; like with the Apples, and how only those descended are immune to their control. But, she _said_ , if I touch the Shroud--something about _destiny_ or the rather--but the world would be saved. If I left it, it would be destroyed. I touched it, and...” Her voice trailed off, as her brow furrowed in thought at the memory of what the Shroud had done. “Something happened. I couldn’t move, but this _pain_ went all through my arms, and into my body. And I ended up here.”

 

She caught a glimpse of his hand moving to reach for her, but he pulled back. Good thing, too; Maya shuddered at the thought of what could have happened. Something _bad_....or good, depending on how one looked at it. She clenched her eyes shut, trying to scold herself. “Do they hurt?”

 

That did it. His concern that was laced in his smooth and rich voice was sure to sound sexy as hell in bed, but at that moment, he needed to _get_ out. “I’m tired.” She quickly told him. “I’ll be prepared for the trip to Boston in the morning to get the recruits.”

 

Moving her eyes to look up at him, she had seen an ebony brow rise in suspicion at her sudden attempt to get rid of him. “Seriously. _Now_. Please leave, and I’ll see you in the morning. I’m fine.” She shooed him out, and he turned, reluctantly, and finally walked out the door, with Maya on his heels. “Go, go!” As soon as he walked out of the door, she had closed it behind him, and cursed the damned ancient bastards that put her in this stupid situation in the first place!

 

Maya let her forehead fall forward onto the wood, and sighed, trying to resist the urge to beg him to come back and satisfy her current unexplained _lust_. Lightly tapping her finger against the door next to her head, she tried to use the sound to calm herself. _Damn it, Maya._

Yes, it had to be _her_ fault. She is shown _genuine_ concern for her well-being by a man, and she has to fight against a crazed attraction that was _wrong_. Damn him and his _we need to trust each other_ speech! Lust and anger were the only emotions she had known; it had been embedded into her mind when she had begun training as a Courtesan. Even more so, after her night of torture when her team had been killed. All other emotions had been shut off for so long...she needed to find a gray area. Maya was _determined_ to do what was necessary to get her job done; she was determined to help the Brotherhood establish within the colonies. No more touching Connor Kenway; no more close encounters of the sexy kind with Connor Kenway; _nothing_. Just strictly business. _Stay professional_ , she told herself. But, even _she_ was having a hard time believing it.

 

* * *

 

_The walls were closing in on her. How long had it been? Days? Weeks? Maya had been so close to the point of giving up, that she lost count after the first round of beatings. She would never give up the location of her cell--_ never _. But, her team had been slaughtered, and Bradley_ _had kept her alive and shoved her into a cell with a small window, that was too high for her to look through._ _She sat on the concrete floor, wondering when she was found out; how did he realize who and what she was? Maybe it had been when she had begun to see that he actually had meant something to someone so innocent; to his little girl that Maya had found to be such a sweet child. All the Assassins had wanted, was information on his business financing Abstergo, and they wanted it_ stopped _. In other words, they wanted him_ dead _. She had hesitated for a sliver of a moment; just enough for him to take the advantage._

_And it cost the lives of her teammates that attempted to rescue her._

_Running her hands down her face, Maya leaned her head back against the wall. It had hurt to breathe; she had to have had a broken rib. The beating had given her a black eye, a split lip, and a dislocated shoulder. Damn bastards had done a number on her. She knew what was to come next; their final attempt to get information out of her--waterboarding. Maya had accepted the fact that a team would not be dispatched to save her from this; either they had_ no _idea where she was, or she was expendable. So, she was resigned to her fate. She would die for the Assassins and their cause. At least they’ll be able to keep pushing forward._

_Inclining her head, she felt the sting of tears as she closed her eyes. She had failed. How could she have been so stupid? A sob threatened to escape her throat, but Maya swallowed it back. She would_ not _let them see or hear her cry._

_“I’m sorry for failing you. I am so sorry.” She whispered._

 

* * *

 

 

Connor slipped off his robes, wincing at the tightness of his shoulders. He had spent the remainder of the day helping Norris with getting supplies from his mine to Dave, helping Myriam with skins of her latest bounty, and decided to train on the training post Achilles had set up in the basement. He had to get his mind back on the right path. In the short time, he’d known her, Maya had become somewhat of a distraction.

 

Turning to the dress form behind him, his gaze fell onto the robes hanging on the form next to the one belonging to him. She had definitely complimented the robes much better than the dress form had, that was for sure. Connor hung his robes, and stepped back, gazing at both robes, side by side. He had often wondered who the female Assassin was that had worn the robes that hung untouched next to his own. There had been a few times he had seen Achilles eye the robes with a look of sadness. Had Achilles’ wife been an Assassin possibly as well? The year of death had matched the same year the Homestead was attacked, and the Brotherhood slaughtered.

 

Connor shook his head. No, it couldn’t be. Achilles would have told him or mentioned _something_. Her name had not been in the list of names of the previous Brotherhood. He would have remembered. But, seeing the two sets of robes next to each other had given Connor a strange feeling; his set was a part of him. It represented the other half of his being; the Assassin. Maya’s robes, on the other hand, seemed....different somehow. Perhaps because they were so much more feminine than he would have imagined; they hugged Maya’s curves, but yet no one would be the wiser that it clothed a deadly killer. The representation was not as clear; her line that separated her two lives had been blurred. However, seeing the two sets also...fit together. He tried to rationalize why and how, but he could not explain it. Two Assassins that would create and lead the new Brotherhood. That is until one would leave.

 

Fatigue had begun to sink in, and Connor decided to listen to the pleading of his body and make his way to his room. As he closed up the basement, the softness of his _own_ bed had called out to him as he neared the top of the stairs to the second floor of the house. He yawned loudly and stretched his arms as he stopped near Maya’s room door. His arms fell to his sides, and he started for his door but froze as his ears picked up on the muffled sound of her voice. He hesitated, wondering if he should go to her room door and knock, to ensure she was alright. _I’m so sorry_.

Connor’s heart strings had pulled at the sadness in her voice. He lightly rapped on the door. A strangled cry. “Maya?”

 

_I didn’t mean to fail you, I swear_.

 

Knowing he was probably just asking for trouble, Connor carefully opened her room door anyway. Her mumbling and groaning definitely had told him she had a bad dream. He poked his head around the door, and his eyes fell onto her bed. She had turned her back, and turned her face away from him, letting out a short groan. Connor’s steps were light as he crossed the floor to her bedside. Her arms lied against the bed, bent to where her hands were fingering at her pillow under her head. After his last experience waking her up, Connor had wondered if it would be such a wise idea to try again. When he decided he’d rather leave her be, since it did not seem too bad, he turned to leave but stopped when he thought he had heard his name fall from her lips.

 

He swung around to face her, his brow lifted in surprise, as he kept his gaze on her. Before he could stop himself, Connor reached his hand towards hers and gently--as well as _carefully_ \--held her hand into his. Maya calmed almost immediately, and his breath caught as she turned her head towards him, her eyes still closed, her features now relaxed. “You are fine now. It was just a bad dream.” He murmured.

 

Connor pulled his hand back slowly but froze as she squeezed his hand, pulling it towards her cheek. “I don’t want to be alone.” She said, sleepily. “Keep them away. Just lie next to me and keep them away...” Her voice trailed off as she pulled his arm more towards her body, forcing him to lean with it, or yank his arm away and run.

 

Instead, Connor had chosen to lean forward with his arm, but he instantly regretted that decision, as she wrapped it around her stomach. “Please, just stay until they go away.” She whispered in her sleep.

He sat on her bedside and swallowed harshly as Maya turned her back to him, snaking his arm around her waist, and held it there, placing her arm securely over his. Her steady and shallow breathing told him she was now fast asleep again. _Damn_. He couldn’t very well sit in such an uncomfortable position, but lying next to her would prove to be just as uncomfortable. However, Maya had asked him to stay. Whatever she had been dreaming, it had calmed as soon as he touched her. Connor had begun to slowly pull his arm back from her, but Maya tightened her hold on it. “Connor...” His name just fell from her lips so easily, as she snuggled her face deeper into the pillow under her head, holding his arm securely to her.

 

His body was exhausted already. He had no choice but to give it a few more moments for her to fall into a deeper sleep so he could slip away without waking her. As he carefully laid his body down, turning towards her back, something within him had relaxed his body and put him in such a state of peace that he let his head rest down on the pillow. That sweet scent he had remembered from her had returned; his eyes closed, her body backed against him and he hugged his arm around her waist a little tighter. He buried his face into the silk strands of her hair, and at that moment, he remembered both sets of robes, and how he had felt as though they were _good_ together.

 

Connor _could_ say the same thing, but he knew that couldn’t be the case. No; he was just going to make sure she was in a good and deep sleep. He would slip away without her knowing any better; even _if_ he felt as though he had belonged right where he was. His whole being had relaxed more, as he held her against him. It never could hurt to rest his eyes for a moment.

 

But, sleep had won the battle.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like this chapter! Again, please, leave a comment!


	9. IX

_**Chapter Nine** _

 

 

Wow, this was one awesome dream. 

 

Maya loved the feel of... _safety_. Sure, she could handle herself; but, it was wonderful to have the masculine strength that had surrounded her. Protecting her from anything or anyone that would come her way. Nothing would _ever_ get past him, and just being able to take a break from the constant fight for survival almost made her feel _human_.

 

The warmth against her back caused such a feeling of comfort that she had snuggled her face into the pillow under her cheek, while a smile formed slowly on her lips. She loved the feel tenderness of his arm draped over her waist, and against her skin of her belly under her blouse, as he hugged her closer against him. As though he had actually _cared_ to hold her; cared _about_ her. It felt so _right_. She would have to wake up, knowing it was just some stupid fantasy that she wanted; one that she would never be able to have. If this were what bliss had felt like, Maya would just sleep forever so she could at least have it in her dreams. And, the way his light breathing had fanned the back of her neck as he slept, caused her skin to turn to gooseflesh-- _wait_.

 

Unless her mind had suddenly gained some unique ability to make her dreams a reality, all of it shouldn’t feel so.... _real_. Her fingers traced gently along the warm arm draped over her waist, over her belly, and tucked under her other hip; holding her against a warm and hard chest--a very _real_ chest. Maya froze, and her eyes opened, immediately peering down to her stomach, and saw the muscular, tanned forearm--Maya gasped loudly as she rolled away from the warm body behind her, and jumped out of her bed.

 

She swung around as Connor had thrown himself out of bed, and stood, startled from sleep and habitually alert. He blinked at her, and as Maya narrowed her eyes at him, realization dawned upon his sleepy face--his _cute_ sleepy face-- _Stop Maya!!!_ Connor winced, closing his eyes, _knowing_ she was pissed. “Maya, I can explain--”

 

Maya clenched her teeth as she balled her fists at her sides. “What. The. _Fuck_.”

 

One eye opened, looking at her, and squinting to adjust to the shaft of light that had pierced through the windows into the room. He opened his other eye and glared at her as his brow furrowed in confusion. “I had _fallen asleep_!”

 

“No _shit_ , Connor! What the hell were you doing in my room in the first place, you  _pervert_?” Although, it _was_ nice having him sleeping next to her. 

 

“You don’t remember?” 

 

Maya crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “I think I would have remembered you crawling into bed with me.” She scoffed incredulously.

 

The silence between them as they watched each other only made her wonder what exactly would possess him to come to her room, and lie in bed with her. All she could really remember was lying in bed, passing out, and waking up with him next to her after believing she had only dreamt of him holding her while she slept; and _damn him_ , it felt wonderful!

 

“You were having a bad dream. You _asked_ me to stay with you so they would _go away_. _You_ trapped me, Maya. I could not wake you, and so I waited until you were in a deep enough sleep so I could leave you undisturbed. But, I fell asleep.” He explained.

 

Maya opened her mouth to hurl an insult, but closed it as his words registered into her now fully awake mind. She tried to recall the night before, between falling asleep and waking up in Connor’s arms. Scratching her head in confusion, Maya tried to dig through her memories; she recalled _something_ of a sort. Of what she _thought_ was a dream; of his lips pressing against the back of her neck--her eyes shot up to look at him. He lifted his brow in question and impatience for an answer as he continued to watch her ponder like an idiot. Maya raised her hand to touch the back of her neck, “You didn’t _kiss_ my neck, did you?”

 

Connor flinched, “ _What_?”

 

_Asshole_! “Well, don’t be so _disgusted_ with the idea or anything!” She snapped. When he opened his mouth to speak, Maya swiped her hand downwards, “No! Just leave. Get out, _right_ now, Connor!”

 

Rolling her eyes, Maya turned her face away from him. What kind of reaction was _that_?

 

Was she _that_ disgusting? Of course, she was. She was a _whore_. He seemed to be a man who _valued_ the whole sex thing; and Maya? Well, she would make even the worst prostitute in the current century blush. Shaking her head at herself, she realized he _still_ hadn’t left. Connor _could_ be telling the truth; he wasn’t the type to take it upon himself to leap into bed with random women. Wow. _Awkward_.

 

Finally, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him turn and leave the room. Maya flinched at the door _slamming_ shut behind him. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she tried to calm the anguish that had threatened to rise. Something had to be done; at the rate it was going, it wouldn’t be long before Maya screwed up yet again--on a bigger scale--and did something that she and the whole human race would pay for.

 

* * *

 

 

What a morning. Connor should _never_ have entered Maya’s room the night before. He should have left her to her nightmare. Maybe she wouldn’t have been so angry with him, accusing him of something so ridiculous! _Kiss her neck_? Why in the world would he do something like that? _But_ \--

 

Connor smiled slightly at the thought of it; he had never gotten a better sleep in his life than what he had gotten the night before. Perhaps he kissed her neck, because he was so relaxed, that it was some sort of reflex? The blood rush towards his groin confirmed how much he just loved the warmth of her body pressed against him; how much he loved holding her against him. It was a rather intimate position, but it felt as though he belonged there.

 

Never again. Connor would just let her have her nightmares, that way she would not be ignoring him--more than usual. Who was he kidding? He could not seem to win with her. She had a temper that snapped no matter _what_ he did. He should just kiss her mouth shut. Connor shook his head with a laugh. That definitely would have been interesting. She would probably hit him afterward, but he could at least block that strike, rather than her verbal ones.

 

His fingers fastened the blue overcoat of his Captain’s uniform he had always worn when captaining the _Aquila_. Connor placed the tricorne hat onto his head and turned to leave his cabin. He had kept the uniform within the Captain’s Cabin of the _Aquila_ , trading it out with his Assassin’s robes. It was a little more restrictive in movement compared to his robes, but, he didn’t mind it. The uniform was different, and it was just another identity of him. The _Captain of the Ghost of the North Seas_ ; a title he loved.

 

The bustle of the crew preparing the ship to leave revved up his blood and adrenaline. Connor loved taking the _Aquila_ out to sea. Cannon fire, storms, taking the ships they had battled as the ultimate prize; it all made the challenge and risks worth the while. He had _sprouted his sea legs_ , as Mr. Faulkner had said. But, they were just sailing to Boston to gather the recruits and settle them into quarters within the Homestead as Achilles had instructed. Making his way to the helm, Connor’s ears picked up the _musical_ sound of laughter. He stiffened and turned to face the main deck.

 

_By the Creator, she was beautiful when she looked like that_. Connor watched as Maya laughed out loud at something the Clutterbuck brothers had said. _Laughed_. It was the first time he had heard it and had even seen a genuine smile on her face. Why could he never get her to look at him like that? _Because you are too serious, that’s why_. His gaze honed onto her hand as it lightly touched Richard’s arm. A stirring of... _something_...made him ball his hands into fists. It couldn’t be jealousy; not over Maya. She was not _his,_ to begin with. Richard had said something, making her laugh again. _Damn_. It made her look human; proof enough that she had misjudged herself. “Sir?” Mr. Faulkner had snapped him out of his trance, and Connor turned to him.

 

Boston. Right. He stepped up to the helm, and took the wheel, commanding for the ship to sail. _Focus_. As the ship pulled away from the harbor, he gripped the wooden spokes of the wheel. _The Clutterbuck Brothers_? Connor’s jaw tightened. The two were good men; however, they were no match for Maya. They would never be able to keep up with her. He dared a glance and saw that she had already gone to the railing along with David Clutterbuck, and they continued their conversation. Connor’s grip tightened. Her gaze turned towards him, and he immediately glanced away, paying attention to the waters ahead of them. Over and over in his mind, he kept reminding himself, that she was not his. And, that she never would be.

 

* * *

 

 

“When are the supplies expected to arrive?” Maya asked, as her eyes scanned the still empty safe house.

 

She turned to face Duncan, who had been standing behind her. “Connor had said the supplies should arrive tomorrow.” He replied. “But, the supplies we will receive from the Homestead will help us start out.”

 

The recruits were only going to be at the Homestead overnight, settling into their own quarters within the old Brotherhood house. The next day’s plans of loading the _Aquila_ with the supplies merchants within the Homestead would provide had Maya pumped up; she was ready to begin training the Assassins. The decision of who would rotate and stay at the safe house hadn’t been made just yet, however. But, Maya knew that Connor would _insist_ on going.

 

Her tongue nearly rolled out of her mouth when she had seen him on the _Aquila_. That damned Captain’s uniform looked... _hot_ on him! As if the morning hadn’t already been awkward because she had foolishly believed he willingly crawled into bed with her when she, in fact, _forced_ him to. So, because she had felt so incredibly stupid, Maya simply ignored Connor all morning. She had met the Clutterbuck brothers, Richard and David; and spoken with them throughout the trip to Boston regarding their duties as Gunnery Officers. Their last name alone had at first sounded hilarious for her to say, but, the brothers had proven to make her laugh. They were stunned at her blunt way of expression but had been relieved that she wasn’t uptight like _most_ people.

 

“I’ll prepare to board the _Aquila_ ,” Duncan told her.

 

Maya nodded, and then turned, looking around the empty space of the first floor. She began to envision what would go where; furniture to give the guise of a normal house on the main floor; the cellar below will hold the armory, and planning room; upstairs, three bedrooms. An idea came to her mind; she would have to work to convince Achilles to allow it; however, Connor would probably have a kitten. Well, possibly not--it’s not as though he wanted her around anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

The Homestead residents were rather welcoming to Maya and the other recruits. They each had offered their own services; tailoring, medicine, blacksmithing, woodworks, and services at the Inn. Of course, Maya had to keep her relations with each of the residents civil if she wished to get supplies for the safe house. Richard had offered to buy Maya an ale when they returned and all settled; which was definitely something she could use. It seemed to bother Connor that Maya had barely spoken a word to him. _Good_. Putting as much distance as she could between them would make things much easier when she did what she was planning to do. She had watched as the recruits had spoken with Connor and Achilles. The conversation mainly consisted of introductions to the Old Man; it still amazed Maya that he had a presence that could put so much awe within anyone he came across. The three men gaped at him, with the looks that Maya had remembered doing herself. She was awestruck by Achilles; even at his age he still presented himself with the presence that commanded the respect he had earned. Once everything had been said and done, Connor had excused the recruits. “Maya, are you still coming to the tavern?” Stephane asked her.

 

She grinned at the Frenchman. “You can count on it. I need a drink.”

 

He turned and left with the other two, leaving her with the two senior Brotherhood members. Maya turned to Achilles. “There was something I wanted to talk to you about, actually.” She told the old man. Maya then narrowed her eyes at Connor, who remained in the room. “ _Alone_.”

 

Connor pushed away from the wall he leaned against and shook his head slowly with a roll of his eyes. He said nothing as he left the room. Maya looked at Achilles and gave a heavy sigh. “Well, I have a proposition.” She began. “I will be the one to stay in Boston tomorrow with a recruit. I feel it would be best. I believe I was sent here to help strengthen the Brotherhood, and I think the best way to do that would be to stay and train from the safe house so I can help secure the city.”

 

Achilles furrowed his brow in question. “Well, your place should be here, at the Homestead, Maya.”

 

She shook her head. “Achilles, please understand. I _have_ to do this. Now, if my calculations are correct, in a little over a year, war _will_ happen. If I concentrate on the Brotherhood, Connor may focus easily on hunting the Templars.”

 

After a few moments of silence, Achilles finally spoke up. “Alright. But, ensure you come see me before you leave. I will have something for your benefit.”

 

Maya gently touched Achilles' arm. He had such worry laced in the tone of his voice, that it honestly had touched her. “I will be fine. I assure you, I will keep in contact on the progress. You are, after all, the Mentor of this Brotherhood.” She smiled.

 

Achilles pat her hand on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. The decision to leave had been such a poorly thought out one, but she had to do it. She had no other choice. The night before with Connor could have easily turned out so much worse. Desperate times were calling her for desperate measures. Just as they had in her own time with the Brotherhood. She could never get away from that; it was time to stop thinking she could.

 

* * *

 

 

Connor felt sorry for Corrine and Oliver, as they scurried behind the bar, trying to keep the ale barrels filled. The couple had no help, but they insisted they could run the inn on their own. His eyes scanned the overcrowded tavern. The Aquila crew members had packed into the tavern, along with travelers that passed through for a room, _and_ all of the Homestead residents. It must have been a night for everyone to celebrate some kind of occasion of their own. He wasn’t there to celebrate, however; instead, he searched for Maya who was meeting the three recruits for an ale. His jaw tightened at the thought; the recruits had taken a liking to Maya almost immediately, which _grated_ on his nerves. Why that bothered him, he didn’t know. Maybe it was because the Brotherhood recruits were supposed to be _his_ recruits. Yes, that _had_ to be it.

 

The sound of her laughter filled his ears, and his heart skipped. She sat near the fireplace, surrounded by the Brotherhood recruits, Robert Faulkner and the Clutterbuck brothers. He wove his way through the patrons to get to her table. Frowning, he watched as she gulped out of a pint of ale. Connor finally reached her table and sat in the chair opposite of her as she slammed the pint onto the surface. “Hey, Connor! Have an ale!” Stephane offered with a smile.

 

He kept his gaze on Maya, concerned of her state of mind at that moment; her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes slightly glazed...how many ales did she _have_? He answered

 

Stephane’s offer with a slow shake of his head. “So, you two got into being artillery officers for ships, because you heard a gunnery officer talk about how powerful his cannon was?” Maya asked the two brothers at the table.

 

She was ignoring him. He understood; the awkwardness between them since they awoke in the same bed that morning still hung in the air between them. Maya had combed her ebony hair back from her face with her fingers. Connor suddenly wanted to be the one running his fingers through her hair; just to see if the strands felt as soft against his fingers as they felt when his face had been buried in her hair. Richard Clutterbuck drank out of his pint and answered her as the rim met his mouth, “Of course. Why _wouldn’t_ we after hearing that?”

 

Maya and Stephane exchanged an amused glance, and Connor didn’t understand the amusement. “I don’t think the Sailor was talking about an _actual_ cannon, guys.” Maya grinned.

 

After a moment of silent contemplation at Maya’s statement, the others around him erupted in laughter. David’s laughter had calmed, as he palmed his mug. “Maya, it’s not often that we run into a woman that will see the humor in things like you do.”

 

Maya answered with a shrug, “I try.”

 

His heart nearly stopped as her eyes moved up from her mug to glance at him. The golden hue of her eyes flashed with amusement, but they were glazed over with intoxication from the ale. Tearing her gaze away from him, she turned her head to look at Clipper, who sat at her side. “You know, you’re too sweet and adorable to be an Assassin.”

 

Connor clenched his fists on the table, as his eyes darted to the recruit. He watched the comment turn Clipper’s cheeks a light shade of pink, and he knew it wasn’t from the alcohol. Tightening his jaw, he watched Maya’s hand rub Clipper’s back. What in the _hell_ is she doing? Finally, Connor had enough. Maya had needed some rest before she did something foolish. “Maya,” Connor cleared the hoarseness from his throat. She turned her head to look at him, her eyes flashing with sudden irritation. “You need to get some rest. You’ve had a lot to drink.” He told her.

 

She snorted at his suggestion and rolled her eyes. “Oh for the love of Pete, Connor. You are so uptight!” She leaned over the table, putting her face close to his. _Too close_. “You need to take that stick out of your ass.” Maya then sat back in her seat, glaring at him as she gripped her mug and took a drink.

 

The others around them had made the smart move of conversing amongst themselves, as Connor stood and rounded the table to stand next to her chair. Maya’s hands gripped the mug so tightly that Connor swore it would break. “Honestly, Maya; I will walk you back to the manor so you may rest. You need it.”

 

Maya shot up out of her chair and swung her hand at him. He was quick enough to catch it, and unfortunately _expect it_ , as he blocked her swing, and kept his grip on her arm. The look of shock on her face would have otherwise amused him, but the scene she decided to create in front of the patrons within the Tavern had only irritated him. He decided to give her a taste of her own medicine, and bent his knees, and tossed Maya over his shoulder. Maya slammed her hands flat on his back repeatedly, hurling insults and curses as he carried her out of the tavern as though she was a sack of flour. Connor knew _exactly_ what she needed to cool off her temper. He walked towards the trough near the doorway where travelers had put their horses, and tossed her in. Maya struggled in shock for a moment, before sitting up with a shriek. He crouched in front of the trough, facing her. “Better?” He asked with a small smile of amusement.

 

As she narrowed her eyes at him, Connor expected another strike or a vulgar insult, but instead, she smoothed her hair with her hands and stepped out of the trough. Her hands ran over her robes, lifted her chin, and Connor laughed slightly as she began to walk away. If he upset her because he had won the _who-can-humiliate-who_ war, then so be it. There had to have been something more that made her so upset with him. He saw her stumble, and he immediately rushed to her. “No! Leave me alone!” She shouted at him.

 

Connor held up his hands in defense at her outburst, and let her walk ahead of him. He wanted to at least make sure she made it back safely. The woman could barely walk straight! Following behind her, he caught mutters of _So stupid,_ and _Dumbass_ , and other vulgarities. Whether it was at him, or at her, he didn’t know. When they finally reached the manor, he stood behind her as she tripped over the last step, landing into the front door. Instinctively, he reached to help her but remembered that he didn’t want her screaming at him. Her hand blindly searched for the door knob, and finally gripped it, opening the door. Connor stepped behind her as she stumbled into the manor.

 

He watched as she regained her footing, and walked towards the stairway. Achilles would be fast asleep, and Connor didn’t want to wake him, so hopefully, Maya had the same respect for the Old Man. Once he had closed the door, he turned and saw that she still stood at the stairway, gazing up to the second floor. “What is it?”

 

He went to stand next to her and saw her frown. A startling look of vulnerability washed over her, and his heart raced as he watched her bite her lower lip in uncertainty. “I can’t make it up the stairs on my own.” She looked at him, “I need help.”

 

If she hadn’t had been drinking, Connor would have wanted to ask her to repeat herself. She _never_ asked for help. And as she gazed at him with her eyes that entranced him so, he finally nodded, and grabbed her arm closest to him, throwing it over his shoulder. His other arm snaked around her waist, holding her to him, as he helped her up the stairs to her room. He gulped as she rested her head on his shoulder. “Thank you.” She quietly said.

 

He didn’t say anything; he was afraid to. His fingers gripped her waist, and he could feel the electric current that went through his body and caused his mind to become extremely aware of her closeness. As they made it to her room, he opened the door for her and walked her to her bed. Maya turned to him and dropped back onto her bed. He gave her a nod, and turned to walk away, but stopped as she spoke up to him. “Connor, are you a virgin?”

 

_What_? Why would she ask something so...personal right _now_? He turned to her. “I beg your pardon?”

 

She was already sitting up, her eyes boring into him. “Have. You. Had. Sex. Before?” She drawled out slowly as though he didn’t speak English.

 

Connor narrowed his eyes in irritation at her mockery of him. Not wanting to draw out an argument with her, he turned towards the door, “That is none of your business. Good night, Maya.”

 

“Wait.”

 

_Damn_. He was _nearly_ at the door! Letting his head fall back in _pure_ frustration, Connor let out a sigh. “ _What_ , Maya?”

 

When he turned to face her, he could feel his hands begin to sweat. She had already stood from her bed facing him; her eyes fixated onto him with a look of... _something_. Before he could even yell _Assassin_ , she had rushed him and planted him against the wall by his shoulders. She eased closer and pressed the length of her body against him. Connor’s pulse raced as her hands slowly moved down his chest to grip at the red sash he wore around his waist. He watched as her intense gaze raked back up to his; the golden colored flecks in her eyes darkened as she looked up at him.

 

_Oh, Creator, not now_! As her hand moved down, he could feel the blood rush to his loins as her hand inched closer. “Maya,” Connor winced at the near groan in his voice. He cleared his throat as she smiled up at him. “You don’t know what you’re doing right now.”

 

His eyes fixated on her lips; primarily on the lower lip now between her teeth. Uttering a curse in his own language, he bit back the groan as her hand brushed his groin. “You’ve never had a woman touch you like this?” Maya asked him silkily, as she inched her lips towards his.

 

Connor couldn’t stop the groan that escaped him as her hand brushed against him, lingering longer this time. A small smile formed on her lips. The addicting scent of her began to flood his senses, fogging his common sense. He had remembered how good it felt to have her leg wrapped around his hips, pushing him towards her; how amazing it felt to lie in bed next to her, holding her while she slept. Maya’s hands slowly moved up to his shoulders, and he froze as her lips pressed chastely against his own. He had kissed other girls when he was a youth, so he knew what to do; he just didn’t know if he _should_. But, when her lips pressed against his again, her fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling him down towards her. The way her tongue traced his lower lip, was maddening. Common sense seemed to have been thrown out the window as he opened up to her, swallowing her moan as he kissed her urgently. He balled his hands, keeping them at his sides to avoid touching her and losing what little control he had left. But he wanted so badly, to snake his arms around her waist, to run his hands along her skin, to-- _wait_. She was intoxicated.

 

Reality slammed into him. She didn’t want this; she _hated_ him.... _didn’t she_? He grabbed her arms, breaking the kiss, and holding her back. Both of them gazed at each other, gasping for air. “Please, just kiss me, Connor.”

 

Clenching his eyes shut to put the logic back into his mind that was clouded with the sudden desire to ravage her lips and answer her plea; he gave a shake of his head. “No. Get some rest.” He answered.

 

He opened his eyes and looked at her. She frowned, and a look of anger washed over her features, as she wriggled herself out of his hands, and shoved him hard against the wall. “Hell, just what I need; someone else _telling_ me what to do!” She backed away from him as her eyes narrowed at him, her lips still swollen from their passionate kiss.

 

Connor became confused at her outburst. “What?” His brow furrowed as he narrowed his eyes at her. “I didn’t tell you to do anything, Maya. You just need to get some rest! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

 

“Don’t know what I’m doing?” She stalked towards him and shoved him again. “I know _exactly_ what I’m doing! My job! All I know how to do is kill and _fuck_ , Connor! That’s all I’m good for! And it’s pretty obvious you’ll see me as nothing else _anyway_!” She shouted.

 

Confusion hit Connor as she turned away from him. What did the Assassins _do_ to her?

 

He wanted to ask her, but first, he wanted to mend the anger, so he stepped towards her, “Maya,” His voice was calm as he spoke to her. “Let me help you.”

 

She swung to him, “I don’t _need_ your help. Get out.”

 

“But--”

 

“I said, _get out_.” She sneered.

 

Nodding his head, he turned, opened the door, and left the room. He reached back to close the door, but, she _slammed_ closed for him. Running his hands down his face, he let out an exasperated sigh. How did things spiral out of control between them so quickly? Connor needed to take a walk; to cool off, especially. But, he also needed to think about what was apparently brewing between him and Maya. And in the morning, whether she wanted to or not, they were _going_ to talk about it.

 

* * *

 


	10. X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things escalated, and Maya decides it's time to get away before she ruins the future with her actions. But Connor wants to talk about what happened, and get everything out in the air; however, Maya won't have any of it, and decides to continue with what she feels she needs to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW Warning:  
> This chapter has sexual situation(s).

**_Chapter Ten_ **

 

 

_She sat up, closed her eyes, throwing her head back, as his hand trailed down the center of her abdomen, and moved to grasp her hip. The slender arch of her body was the perfect sight, as he gripped her hips and let out a tortured groan. She slowly rocked back and forth, and just as she began to tighten around him, she stopped suddenly. “Oh, no you don’t.” He smiled._

_Lifting a hip off of the bed, he rolled her over and under him. Still seated inside, he rocked forward, watching as her head dipped back into the pillow, her hair spilled like an ebony curtain against the fabric. As she exposed her slender neck, the scent of...jasmine filled his senses as he pressed his lips to her throat. He rested his elbows on the sides of her head, cradling her within his arms, as he thread his fingers within the soft and silky strands of her hair. His lips trailed up over her chin and finally covered hers to swallow her moan._

Connor had _never_ had a dream like that before. He had been sitting up in his bed, staring at the now extinguished flames of the fireplace that nestled against the wall, opposite of his bed. Sweat dripped from his forehead, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. For one, why in the _world_ would he dream of something so intimate? And, two--well, he could _still_ feel Maya beneath him; he could _still_ feel her toned legs lock around his hips as he...Connor shook his head. No, he couldn’t think of such things. It was disrespectful to her, and... _strange_ for him.

 

He threw the covers back, and swung his legs to the side, placing his face into the palm of his hand as he rested his elbow on his knee. The dream seemed to have come as soon as he had drifted into sleep. It was almost _too_ intense for him and felt so real. But, there was no possible way he would have known _half_ of the acts performed in that dream. He hadn’t known that one could place his mouth all the way down.... _there_ on a woman. Let alone enjoy it. And, by the Creator, Maya had done the same on _him_...and even the memory of it in that dream had caused his body to ache for it. Connor stood up, and walked towards the window, taking a deep breath. He needed to cool down the frustration-- _again_. With the dream still within his vivid memories, it put a wrench in his plans to talk with her about the night’s events. He would _never_ be able to look at her without imagining his lips against hers; his fingers trailing down her thigh to hook under her knee to bend it up so he could sink inside her warmth. Yes; talking would be a _bad_ idea.

 

* * *

 

 

Maya decided she was never having another alcoholic beverage again... _ever_. Not only had she woken with a huge headache from hell with no aspirin around to relieve it, but she also had made a huge jackass of herself. Her attraction driven lust had nearly put the whole world in danger, but Connor had not even wanted her. She couldn’t really blame him; she’d been a _bitch_ since she met him. And, to top off her misery, her mind decided to torture her with one hell of an erotic dream about him. The dream was so intense; that she could _feel_ the emotion behind each touch, each kiss; and it scared the shit out of her. Her tattoos had darkened in her dream, as though they were slowly solidifying their presence on her arms; and she felt a sort of connection to Connor, feeling each emotion from him flow through her veins as though they were her own. She had to leave-- _now_.

 

After donning the robes, and arming herself, she turned to walk towards the stairs of the cellar. It would be just a short trip to Boston upon the _Aquila_ ; Connor would drop off the supplies, a recruit, and hopefully, let her stay without putting up an argument. Achilles assured her he would talk with Connor about that decision, and that there should be no problem, so long as she had kept in contact with him regarding the progress. A shadow filled the doorway towards the cellar, causing Maya to stop and look up. _Damn it_. Connor stepped down the stairs, glancing at her, before silently passing her to the armory. After exhaling a breath, she didn’t know she was holding she took a step forward, only to freeze after he spoke. “We need to talk.”

 

 _Run_.

 

“No, we don’t.”

 

“Yes; we do.” He stepped out of the armory, slipping two pistols into the dual holsters at his hips. A sword, his tomahawk, two rope darts, a bow, and a quiver full of arrows had already armed the Assassin. How in the _hell_ did he gear up so fast? He held another tomahawk in his hand; a smaller one than what was strapped to his hip. “Take this.”

 

Maya glanced down at the smaller weapon, and then back up at him. “Why?”

 

“Because you need some kind of melee weapon. A stiletto is for stabbing.” He held the tomahawk out to her.

 

“It _does_ the job!”

 

“Will it parry a sword? Can you throw it accurately?”

 

Placing her hands on her hips, Maya lifted her chin as he towered over her. “I thought so.” He scoffed at her, taking her hand.

 

Maya snatched her hand out of his grip before he could place the tomahawk into it. “Don’t _touch_ me.” She tightened her jaw and reminded herself how much she was trying to avoid him, and avoid any kind of argument.

 

Connor rolled his eyes as he took her hand and quickly shoved the tomahawk into it. “Just _take_ it. You will thank me later.”

 

“Don’t count on it.” She spit the words out before she could stop herself. Damn, her mouth _constantly_ got her knee deep in shit; verbally _and_ physically.

 

As though her snippy remark reminded him as well, his brow narrowed over his near black eyes. “I want to talk to you about last night.”

 

Maya let out a bitter laugh, as she concentrated strapping the tomahawk to her leather weapons belt. Her whole body warmed, and her pulse raced at the memory of the vivid dream she’d had of him; of his hand gripping her hip, his lips covering her own, her fingers digging into his broad, muscular shoulders, feeling the muscles flex under her hands as he slowly thrust into her. _Damn it!_ “Oh, ho, no!” She laughed. “ _That_ will stay away from any kind of talking, memory, dream, whatever. There’s nothing to talk about.”

 

Connor shuffled his way to the front of her, blocking her only route of escape. “Get _out_ of my way.” Maya ground out through clenched teeth. “What the _hell_ did I tell you about caging me in?”

 

“And what did I do to teach you a lesson about striking out against me?” He shot back.

 

 _Seriously_? Maya’s fists clenched at her sides. Taking a few deep breaths trying to calm her anger, she looked up at him, as she narrowed her eyes. “Look. Last night was nothing but a _huge_ mistake. _Everything_ about it was wrong. I meant nothing I said or did. I was _drunk_. You don’t like being told what to do, and neither do I! Now,” She attempted to shove her way past him, “ _Get_ out of my way!”

 

The dude didn’t budge, and it pissed her off, even more, when he grabbed her arm. “You’re running.” He told her.

 

Jerking her arm out of his hold, she stepped towards him, jabbing her finger at his chest. “I’m not running, you asshole! I’m just trying to avoid making any more mistakes! For once, I’m not going to let myself _screw_ up; especially on such a global scale! I was given a mission by a holographic bitch that gave me burning tattoos through some stupid artifact because of my cursed lineage!” She narrowed her eyes at him and could feel the markings on her arms begin to burn, but her anguish at herself, at the situation, trumped the pain. “In order for me to go home, back to _my_ time, and help _your_ descendant save the goddamn world, I have to do what I came to do! And I can’t do it if you keep--” She stopped herself before she revealed too much. _Shit_. She  _did_ reveal too much.

  

His eyes widened in surprise and shock, but Maya turned and bolted up the stairs, ignoring his call for her. Grabbing her backpack at the doorway, she made her way towards Achilles, who stood at the front door, waiting. “Thank you, for everything,” Maya told him. “I will keep in contact on the progress made with the Brotherhood.”

 

She heard footsteps come to a halt behind her, knowing Connor had caught up and was now standing behind her. Achilles held out a small leather bound book, “This is the writings of the last Courtesan with the original Colonial Brotherhood. It may help with your recruitment efforts.”

 

Maya swallowed harshly, as she took the journal from his hand. She glanced up at him, noticing a look of sadness within his expression as he gazed at the book. “Thank you so much, Achilles. I will return this to you. I promise.” She told him.

 

“It is yours to keep. From one Courtesan to another. Safe travels, Maya.” Achilles touched her shoulder gently, before turning to leave.

 

Maya gazed down at the journal in her hand. Writings on how another Courtesan handled themselves in the current time would be _extremely_ handy to her. She turned to Connor, as she placed the journal in her bag. “Look, everything was a mistake. Forget I said _anything_ , forget I did anything. I’m sure Achilles told you the new plan?”

 

He answered her with a nod. “Good. That way, you can concentrate on your own hunt, while I help expand the Brotherhood. There’s just no way you can rebuild and pursue the Templars in time on your own. So, I’ll help where I can. I just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to even be around each other. If we need anything, I’ll send a message. But,” Maya slung her backpack over her shoulders, “After you leave Boston, you won’t see me again unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

 

 Before she gave him a chance to respond, Maya turned and walked out of the front door. She had left a note for him in his room, while he was gone that morning. Hopefully, he would read it, and just understand that she truly was sorry for what she’d done, and for her attitude towards him. At least she would be able to apologize for _one_ mistake before it was too late. As she made her way towards the harbor, she had hoped that her time away in Boston would help her finish her mission, go home, and hopefully help her _forget_ about Connor Kenway.

 

* * *

 

 

_Connor,_

_First, please accept my apology for what I had done to you last night. I had not been in the right mind frame, and I had also been drinking too much of that damned ale. It will not happen again._ _I am going to be the one staying in the Boston safe house, and one recruit can rotate every few weeks until they are comfortable enough to take over their districts. Once that happens, I may go back to my own time, or I will work to continue to spread the Brotherhood._ _For some reason, my emotions are a mess, and I can no longer take it out on you. You do not deserve that. I have a horrible temper that I need to learn to control. So, I feel it would be for the best if we were to both keep a safe distance from each other. I cannot see you unless it is absolutely necessary. Things have gotten out of hand, and for that I am sorry. We are two different people, from two different worlds; I will return back to my own time, my own life; you will continue to live, spread the Brotherhood, build your own family, and continue a lineage that has consisted of legends through time. Continue on your path, Connor. Because I believe in you, and I have the faith that you will see this through._

 

_Thank you, for everything._

 

_-Maya_

Connor gripped the letter in his hand, as his jaw tightened. Maya and Clipper had already been left at the safe house in Boston, with the needed supplies from the Homestead, and he had left with the _Aquila_ to come back to the manor. Now, he had a letter from Maya--the _infuriating_ , stubborn woman--saying she had regret what had happened between them. _Two different people, two different worlds_. Okay, so there was a sensible logic behind the danger of the attraction that had apparently been brewing between them both. He had initially tried to talk with her about the night before; about his attraction towards her. But, instead, she erected the walls she kept around her and pushed him out with her stubborn personality.

 

Now, she had rejected him; pushed him out, and he had let her be. However, he could not get the vivid memory of the dream he had that involved her, out of his mind. There was a connection between them both that he could _still_ feel; he had felt the emotions rolling off of her in waves. In the dream, it was passion, lust, and....another feeling he could not pinpoint or even identify; but it felt wonderful. That morning, he felt her anger, her frustration, and fear. Her emotions had felt as though he slammed into a brick wall. But, as soon as she was gone, it diminished.

 

Connor stared at the letter in his hand. Maya said something about his own descendant; and how she needed to help him save the world. She had refused to speak with him after that. Not even a goodbye when he had left for the _Aquila_. His eyes narrowed as he resisted the urge to rip the letter to shreds. Instead, he opened a desk drawer and threw the letter inside. If she wanted her space, she would get it. Connor could not afford to become distracted any longer. He would hunt Templars; she would expand the Brotherhood. And she would leave. No longer will he be able to gaze into the eyes that have seemed to have him bewitched; no longer will the smell of _jasmine_ flood his senses and his veins; she would _never_ smile at him the way she had to the _Clutterbucks_. The thought had seemed to have put him in a caustic mood. Connor needed to forget about her.

 

* * *

 

 

So; Abigail Davenport was a Courtesan. Maya closed the journal and placed it onto the wooden nightstand near her bed. She had been reading the journal Achilles had given her over the past few months, learning about his own wife and her duties as a Courtesan within the Brotherhood. The revelation was a shock; she hadn’t remembered anything mentioned of his wife being an Assassin during her education. But then again, Courtesans were rarely spoken of. Why that was, Maya had _no_ idea.

 

Abigail had described her predator ways in the manner of the original Courtesans created in Rome. _That_ was something Maya wanted; no sex, just charming their way into the vulnerability of their target; seduction worked in different ways. Either blind the target with feigned kindness or cloud their minds with lust. The Courtesan will strike at the quickest opportunity; before the target could comprehend that they were being hunted. There was a reason the Courtesans had looked the way they did.

 

The recruits had rotated throughout the past few months, helping Maya set up the safe house, and begin spreading the cause throughout the districts. She glanced at herself in the mirror and frowned. Her arms burned, as she remembered the numerous dreams she would have whenever she allowed herself to fall asleep. One in particular, from Minerva that bothered her to no end.

 

_“You must stay on the path you were placed on.”_

_Maya glared up at the hologram of the woman who had sent her back in time in the first place. She held her arms out to her, “What are these? What’s_ wrong _with me?”_

_“The markings you have received are a symbol of your body accepting the Shroud as its host. Once you have completely recognized it, you will be able to change what is, and complete your duties.” Minerva answered her._

_“But I am on my way to completing my duty that you had so lovingly charged me with!_ _What else more is there to do?”_

_  
_

_Minerva only stared at Maya, her expressionless gaze boring into her. “Listen to the Shroud that is within your blood. The power of the Shroud is too much for you to understand. You call it_ healing _; we call it_ change _. To change, what is.”_

_Maya was even more confused than before. Her eyes narrowed, “Really? That’s all you have to say to me? What the_ hell _is that supposed to mean?”_

_“You will know when it comes. Whether or not you choose to listen to it, is your choice. If you choose to ignore it, the world will surely parish, which will cause a chain reaction and destroy all you know.”_

_Maya shrugged, “Well, no pressure.” She darted a gaze to Minerva, “Fine. I’ll_ listen _to the Shroud, and complete my mission. I have already made one step, and I will continue to make more.”_

With a shake of her head, Maya tightened the bodice of her robes. “Stupid cryptic _bitch_.” She ground out.

 

Why her? She had failed her team, failed the Order, and now, they’re placing the fate of the _damned_ universe in _her_ hands? She looked up at the mirror again and began to braid her long ebony hair, allowing it to drape over her shoulder. The issue at hand needed to be dealt with; Colonists were beginning to escalate the riots within the city against the Redcoats. Which meant war was to come soon. It was time for her to meet Samuel Adams and the rest of the Sons of Liberty. She had made her way down the stairs and saw Clipper waiting for her near the door. She never wanted to get involved in the conflict, but if the Assassins could step in, perhaps they could get the situation under control. _Fat chance_ , but it _could_ happen. Maya was in the past; she needed to change what is. And that was exactly what she planned to do.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, please leave a review and critique of what you think! I'd love to hear it. Or leave a Kudos if you like it!


	11. XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a year since Maya left the Homestead to live in Boston, and the Assassins have been busy. The war is inevitable, and Connor must reiterate to Maya that the Assassins are not to be involved.

_**Chapter Eleven** _

 

****

_One year later....._

“You’re absolutely sure that we should assist them?”

  

Maya looked up from the letter she held, at Clipper Wilkinson. He had a dark brow raised in concern, as he gazed at her. She answered him with a nod and ran her hand down her face with a sigh of frustration. “It has to be done. No matter what is going on between the British and the Colonists, the Templars will see it as the perfect opportunity.” She placed the letter down on the table between them. “Clipper, if the Sons of Liberty have information on John Pitcairn, we _have_ to strike. They won’t give us that information unless we help them.”

 

Maya idly rubbed her hands up and down her arms. The tattoos that had first appeared a year ago had darkened more. The designs of the ancient writings of her people had darkened again when she had another dream of Minerva almost six months prior, once she had received news that William Johnson had been killed by Connor. She wasn’t stupid; it was as though the tattoos were solidifying themselves onto her arms when events that she knew of would happen. Connor had gone through with the assassination of William Johnson; and now, they darkened again, when the threat of the Revolutionary War began. However, for some odd reason, her memory of the lessons she had received growing up was starting to fade from memory. She could not remember whether or not the Assassins assisted Revere during his midnight ride, but the dream she had of Minerva a few nights prior had pushed her to make the decision to support the organization.

 

_“You tell me changes are coming. But, what the hell do you mean? Why can’t you just_ tell _me what I’m to do? I’ve been stuck here!”_

_Maya glared up at the hologram of Minerva and could feel the urge to punch the ancient woman in the face grow even more. It was frustrating. Maya had lived day by day not knowing if her actions had drastically changed her time; and if so, was it for the better or worse? It wasn’t as though she could pick up a phone and ask. The ancient goddess remained passive of Maya’s_ _frustration. “There is a change coming. One that will decide whether or not the path will darken._ _You must make that decision. The Shroud will only help if you allow it to. You will know when that decision comes.”_

Maya rubbed her temples at the memory of the dream. _Damn_. She had to deliver the message to Connor and see to it that he had met with Revere. She had purposely avoided any contact with him since she had decided to stay in Boston. If any messages needed to get to him, one of the other Assassins had sent it; if he had visited; she would ensure she was away, assisting Samuel Adams with one of his many convoys to the frontier. It was a definite change, that much was clear. Maya smiled to herself at the memory of her first time on a horse with the stoic Assassin; how he had tried to get her onto the large animal, while she stubbornly refused. She had gotten used to the form of transportation now; although she wasn’t exactly an expert at horseback riding, she was no longer afraid to do it. All the walking was beginning to kill her feet.

 

She glanced up at her colleague, Clipper Wilkinson. He had insisted on remaining at her side after she stayed at the safe house. Maya had to admit; he was a rather handsome man and had treated her with kindness. But, she had continued to block any emotions from becoming involved; he was a fellow Assassin, and that was where she drew the line. Anything beyond that; friendship, or _more_ , guaranteed a weakness to be exploited. It was a weakness that Maya had continued to regret each day. Since Achilles had given his blessing to induct the three recruits, Clipper, Duncan, and Stephane, Maya sat them each down, and given them further education on the secrets of the Brotherhood; to include the Shroud and why she was there. They had understood, surprisingly; any normal human being would lock her up for insanity and throw away the key.

 

“Maya,” Clipper’s voice had broken her trail of thoughts. He stepped towards her cautiously, “Connor _has_ to know about this. Would you rather one of us send the message?”

 

Okay, so Clipper had become a _friend_ to Maya. She had confided in him the real reason she had avoided the head of the Brotherhood, and what happened between them. He had only listened; and offered none of the advice that Maya would only become irritated in receiving. Finally, she answered him with a nod. “Yes. Send Stephane to deliver the message.” She finally sat in the wooden chair and stared at the letter folded on the table. “You and I will escort Samuel Adams and John Hancock to Lexington. Duncan and the others will assist Connor and Revere.” She cringed at saying the name; _Revere_.

 

Anyone who had been around Maya long enough _knew_ that she and Mr. Revere did _not_ get along. He had shown distrust in Maya and her motives and treated her recruits as though they were nothing more than a pebble in his shoe. She looked up, and noticed a small smirk form on Clipper’s lips; he had witnessed Maya give Revere a few of her _thoughts_. After Revere had annoyed Maya so much, with his constant nagging that put any urban legend of mother in laws to shame, she had pushed him into the Charles River and told him to stick his crate of weapons in an unpleasant place. Stephane and Caleb had gotten a laugh of it, while Revere refused to work with Maya again.

 

_Asshole_.

  

Maya grinned up at Clipper, knowing he recalled how _well_ she had gotten along with Revere. “Well, Connor can suffer the presence of Revere.” Maya shrugged. “He asked for Connor anyway, according to this letter.” Clipper widened his eyes in slight shock at her decision, and Maya folded the parchment. “I’ll have Stephane send a message to Connor. You and I will escort Sam Adams and John Hancock to Lexington.”

 

* * *

 

 

Connor’s eyes had to adjust to the darker environment in the basement as he walked down the wooden steps. His eyes finally fixed onto the robes that hung on the dress form in the center of the room. He should have just saved himself the trouble and slept in them; each morning began with donning his robes, anyway. The pain in his shoulder had nagged at him since he had a skirmish with a few bandits a couple of days prior, but his determination to ensure that each Templar had been eliminated kept him going. One target was now gone, but there still were plenty more to go. He had finally assassinated William Johnson months ago, but the list continued with a few skirmishes in between.

 

He began to slip the robes on, but his eyes kept onto the empty dress form next to the one that held his robes regularly; the one that had once held what is now Maya’s robes. Since she had left to stay in Boston a year prior, he had not seen her but once. Although they parted on extremely awkward circumstances, she still had not spoken a word to him when they saw each other. Maya had come to visit Achilles one day; and she also had brought along the newest recruit, Fillan McCarthy. Connor remembered watching her work with him, and teaching him how to handle the rope dart. He was awestruck while he watched her handle the weapon with grace and deadly accuracy.

 

Connor had fought the decision to have Maya handle the Brotherhood in Boston on her own, but she had surprised him by taking the responsibility and stabilizing the Boston cell. The three district leaders he began with were now inducted into the Brotherhood as Assassins, and a few more recruits had come under their belt as well. Caleb Garret had been recruited out of the frontier just outside of the town of Lexington, while Fillan McCarthy had joined from the cities after his sister had attempted to “sell him out” to the Templars. They had all helped a great deal; which left Connor able to do any tracking of Nicholas Biddle along the coast, in the _Aquila_. Connor _knew_ he was getting close to catching Biddle; he just _knew_ it. Robert Faulkner had been working on getting leads to Biddle, alongside with Amanda Bailey; soon, Connor would have to enlist the help of _all_ the Brotherhood--to _include_ Maya, whether she liked it or not.

 

Once he had finally fastened the buckle of his weapons belt, he made his way into the armory. He armed himself with his flintlock pistols, the cartridges, three rope darts, and his bow and a full quiver of arrows. Lastly, he placed his tomahawk into its holster. He wondered if Maya had mastered the use of the tomahawk he had given her. Connor felt his lips curve upwards into a small smile at the memory; she had refused, with her chin up in her stubborn defiance. But, she had finally taken it. The weapon was small enough for her to handle; it had been sitting in the armory for as long as Connor could remember, gathering dust and aching to be used. Once he was finished with the armory, he could hear the faint knocking on the front door upstairs.

 

His stomach growled at him; he had missed his breakfast, and it seemed as though his day was going to force him to start without a meal. It figured; especially since the recent tension between the Colonists and the Redcoats looked as though it were ready to boil over. Connor didn’t want the Assassins involved. However, the Templars had placed their own on _both_ sides, ensuring that whoever would win this conflict, they would remain in power. He had to end this hunt--and _fast_ ; or the Assassins would have no choice but to involve themselves in the conflict.

 

* * *

 

 

“Connor, my friend!” Stephane looked exhausted, but the Frenchman still grinned from ear to ear.

 

Connor was surprised seeing his fellow Assassin at the doorway of the manor. He greeted Stephane in return with a small smile and a nod. “Stephane, how are you?”

 

Achilles had made his way into the foyer from the back of the house. Stephane crossed his arms over his chest and bowed his head in respect to the Colonial Brotherhood’s mentor. Connor frowned, as he realized that Stephane’s early arrival and his disheveled clothing meant he had traveled all night; and meant that his reason for visiting conveyed urgency. “What is wrong? Has something happened?” Connor asked as he raised a brow in suspicion.

 

Stephane turned his attention to Connor and reached into the satchel at his side. He pulled out a parchment and handed it to Connor. “We have somewhat of a problem.” Stephane began to explain as Connor opened the letter. “Our assistance is needed from the Sons of Liberty.”

 

Connor looked up at him, as he passed the letter to Achilles. _Wonderful_. The Assassins had been assisting the rebel group with convoys of weapons to the frontier, to ensure the colonists had ways to defend themselves. But, the growing conflict put Connor’s people in the middle, due to their decision to not be involved. The caves his people were charged to watch over had been much more significant. Protecting innocent people had been much more important. The affairs between the colonists and the Redcoats were not to involve the Assassins--they had _enough_ to deal with. “They have mistaken us for their own, Stephane.” He told him.

 

Achilles cleared his throat loudly. Connor glanced at his mentor and frowned. “What is it?”

 

“This is a letter written by Maya. She says that Paul Revere requests your presence. Apparently, the redcoats are up to something in Boston.” Achilles explained.

 

Connor shook his head. “No.” He told both Achilles and Stephane. “Maya needs to understand that we cannot choose who to fight for with their conflict. We had assisted the rebels because William Johnson had been behind the financing of the smuggled cargo of tea. The only way we can help if something happens is by helping those caught in the middle of it.” He turned his attention to Stephane. Connor needed to reiterate this to Maya before she did anything _rash_. “Where is Maya?”

 

Stephane cleared his throat and scratched his head as his eyes went to the ground. _Oh no; this could not be good_. “She uh,” Stephane fidgeted slightly. “She and Clipper escorted Sam Adams and John Hancock to a safe house Lexington.”

 

Connor’s eyes narrowed at Stephane. He had noticed Maya had been spending _too_ much time with Clipper Wilkinson, but she also had taken it upon herself to assist the Sons of Liberty continuously. If she had taken the two men to a _safe house_ , something had to have been wrong. “She _what_?”

 

“Connor, you might want to meet with Mr. Revere.” Achilles intervened. “Maya also mentions that he has information on John Pitcairn.”

 

Connor’s interest had peaked; he and the Assassins have been tracking John Pitcairn ever since he had found the letter on Johnson’s body that ordered the Templar to destroy weapons and supplies meant for the Colonists. Pitcairn was a hard man to find; and if Paul Revere had information, Maya could be hunting Pitcairn on her own. _Stubborn woman!_ Connor clenched his jaw at the possibility. He had to make sure he arrived in time to help pursue the Templar down. “Where?” He asked Stephane.

 

“Boston,” Stephane answered. “Revere wants us to meet him at his house in Boston.

 

Connor walked out of the manor and was followed by Stephane. He knew Maya’s hunt for John Pitcairn was just as aggressive as his own. No doubt she would go after him herself and get herself _killed_. Connor made his way to the stables, and readied his horse, as Stephane pulled himself onto his horse. “The others are to meet us there tonight,” Stephane told him.

 

As Connor furiously began saddling his horse, his mind swarmed. He would get the information he needed from Paul Revere; he would ensure Maya _understood_ that she would _not_ hunt the Templars on her own, without giving him the chance to help; and although war had looked to be inevitable between the colonists and redcoats, Connor would make sure the Assassins knew that helping those who could not help themselves was all they could do. Because the Templars were the real threat; and eliminating the Templars would ensure the safety of those who lived in the colonies, and would guarantee the safety of his people.

 

_Damn stubborn woman_ , Connor thought to himself as he pulled himself onto his horse.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are enjoying this :) Please leave a review, and a kudos if you liked it!


	12. XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maya and Connor meet again after a year apart. He's noticed changes in her; and she has been keeping a big secret from him.

_**Chapter Twelve** _

 

 

_Quickly, Connor! They’re over there!_

Maya cringed at the annoying and wretched voice. Paul Revere might as well have used a bull horn instead, considering how loud he was. He was supposed to alert the townsfolk _quietly_ and _quickly_ that the Redcoats were planning to invade the colonies. But, as she stood outside the door of the safe house that currently hid Samuel Adams and John Hancock, she could hear his voice echoing as horses approached. She clenched her fists and began to stalk towards the direction the noises came from, ready to punch the annoying little man in the face for being so loud. But, she stopped in her tracks as the familiar warmth spread through her arms and into the rest of her body; warmth she felt whenever _he_ was near.

 

_Connor_.

 

Clipper Wilkinson and Caleb Garrett stood at her side, readying their rifles. They stood guard outside the safe house with Maya all night, in case the Redcoats decided to show up and arrest Adams and Hancock. Maya narrowed her eyes towards the darkness of the woods in front of them; _feeling_ for reassurance. She felt her heart race as the feeling grew stronger; it was one that she couldn’t explain, but one that she had felt whenever he was within a certain distance since the night of their lustful, drunken encounter. Finally, Maya swallowed harshly and held up her arms to the two other Assassins that stood at her side. “Wait.”

 

She gave them each a glance and noticed their weapons still ready; just in case. Finally, Caleb frowned, and instead pulled out his flintlock pistol. “That man is going to alert every Redcoat from here to England.” He cocked his pistol, “Want me to shoot him?”

 

Maya smiled and shifted her gaze to her companion. He only gave her a shrug, as he held up his weapon. “Caleb,” She began, as she held back a giggle. “You know we can’t kill innocents.”

 

Caleb scoffed, “He’s not _innocent_. He’s _annoying_. I’ll do the world a load of a favor by ending that racket!”

 

Caleb had been with Maya and a few other Assassins when she pushed Paul Revere into the Charles River. After she had watched him treat her Assassins with suspicion rather than gratitude, she let him have it. Revere _especially_ treated Caleb and Fillan with disdain, and it only _irritated_ Maya. She let out a laugh at Caleb’s suggestion; and although it _was_ tempting, she pushed his weapon-wielding hand downwards, and shook her head. “Connor and the others are with him,” Maya told him.

 

Finally, figures appeared from the shadows of the woods. Three horses galloped towards them. Maya could feel her pulse race as her gaze set upon the figure at the head of the three horses. It was _him_. She noticed he filled in his robes a little more; and although he looked _pissed_ to be spending the long ride with Revere, his eyes fixated on her. And, she could feel the same emotions from him that she was currently feeling herself; she _missed_ him.

 

The horses slowed to a stop, and Maya gulped as she gazed up at Connor, who had stopped just in front of her. _Oh man, he looked so good_.

 

She cleared her throat, hoping she didn’t _say_ that. But, an arrogant smirk on his face that suddenly appeared told her that he somehow knew she was thinking it. _Damn_! Did she look like a lovestruck teenager? Finally, Maya tore her gaze away from Connor, just in time to watch Revere attempt to pull himself off of the back of the horse he shared with Stephane. “Maya! I brought Connor, just like--”

 

Maya sliced down her hands, shushing out loud, quickly cutting Stephane off. The Frenchman was relentless in his quest to bring Connor and Maya together. He was _convinced_ that Maya belonged with him after she told Stephane and the other Assassins why she left the Homestead. “What is _she_ doing here?” They heard.

 

Maya had expected Connor to be the one to ask that; but instead, it was her arch nemesis, Paul Revere. At the corner of Maya’s eye, she caught a glimpse of Connor sliding off of his horse. _Good_ Gods _, she wanted to drool_.

 

She turned her attention to the annoying little piss-ant that stalked towards her. “You know, Revere, I could hear your annoying ass as you rode here. It defeats the purpose of _quietly_ and _quickly_ , you _moron_!” Maya retorted.

 

“I _hardly_ think you know much about what needs to be done here, Maya. Go home.” Paul lifted his nose as he strode by her.

 

Maya’s blood boiled. _That’s it!_ She was at _least_ going to kick him in the place he deserved to be kicked! As she turned towards him, she was stopped as Connor intervened. “You will show your gratitude towards my colleagues, Revere. Or, you don’t receive our help,” Connor ground out. “ _Ever_.”

 

Paul narrowed his eyes at Connor and turned them towards Maya. “Forget it, Connor. I’ll just make sure he goes down in history as the _jackass_ he is.” Maya said as she crossed her arms over her chest. She turned towards Revere, “Run along, Paul. _Shoo_!”

 

He lifted his head as he stomped towards the door of the house. Maya attempted to follow but nearly gasped as a hand wrapped around her arm. She turned towards the man she had avoided on purpose for the past year. His nearly black eyes softened as he gazed down at her, but then narrowed in.... _annoyance_? “Don’t _ever_ leave me to deal with that man again.” He told her.

 

_Seriously?_ Maya rose up a brow as she glared at him. What was she expecting? A reunion of _I-missed-yous_? Her fists clenched, and she snatched her arm away. “Whatever, Connor.” She ran her hands down her sides, straightening her robes. “Did he get you the information on Pitcairn or not?”

 

He shook his head at her, and with a roll of his eyes, he side stepped her and made his way towards the house. Maya took two deep breaths of the chilly air and ran her hands down her face in frustration. She cursed herself as she turned and followed him inside. There was nothing to be irritated with him about; she had avoided him purposely and had every reason to. Connor Kenway was a dangerous distraction, and Maya reminded herself of every logical reason why.

 

Even though she felt a strong pull towards him, she explained it to herself as a stupid attraction; she knew that somewhere, and _soon_ , he would meet his future wife; and she would go home.

 

* * *

 

 

Connor wanted to turn and walk away from the whole situation at hand by the time they neared the safe house. But, when he saw Maya, he decided against it. He had wondered if she had changed over the past year; her hair _had_ gotten longer. She wore it in a thick braid that was draped over her shoulder, falling to her waist. He’d never forgotten the golden hue to her eye color that seemed to burn as she looked at him. But, he also remembered how she had taken it upon herself to get the Assassins involved in the inevitable conflict arising between the Colonists and the Redcoats. He wanted to confront her on the decision, but he could not completely blame her; Paul Revere had baited them with information on John Pitcairn, knowing the Assassins were hunting him.

 

The fact that Revere had the information the Assassins would need had saved him from a good choking that night. Not only had Stephane warned Connor about Revere’s treatment of the Assassins, but he had also been so irritated by Revere, that Connor could see _why_ Maya decided to escort Sam Adams and John Hancock instead. The only clue Revere had given him was that Pitcairn planned to _kill_ the two men they had now come to see. He turned his head and saw Maya following him into the house. The two finally stepped inside, and he closed the door after them. Sam Adams turned and stood as Connor stepped towards him. “Connor!” Sam greeted. “So nice to see you.”

 

“You must go. The redcoats are coming.” Connor warned.

  

“We already know this, Connor,” Maya spoke up. “This is why we brought them here.” Connor shook his head. “You don’t understand. Pitcairn intends to kill them.”

 

Maya narrowed her eyes suspiciously, as she exchanged glances with the two men she escorted to the safe house. She then looked at Connor, crossing her arms over her chest. “Where did this information come from?”

 

Connor’s gaze followed Maya’s as it landed on Revere. “You didn’t think to _tell_ me this information?” Maya snapped at Revere. “This is the worst place to escort these two men! The Redcoats will hit Lexington first!”

 

Maya was beginning to lose her temper; Connor could _feel_ it. “I only just found this out after you had left.” Revere shot back.

 

“We will leave,” Sam spoke up, as he stood. “It will be alright, Maya.” Sam turned his attention to Connor and Revere, “Someone will need to help hold down the town.”

 

“Connor, you and your people help our man John Parker. Dawes and I will continue to spread the word.” Revere told him before he turned to make his exit.

 

“Who the hell does he think he is?” Maya snorted.

 

Okay, so Maya _hadn’t_ changed much since Connor had last seen her. The others around them remained quiet, as Adams and Hancock began readying themselves to leave. He watched as Maya rubbed her temples. He opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, but then he clenched his jaw as he watched Clipper walk towards her with a look of concern. He clenched his fists and desperately held back from throwing Clipper through the wall as he watched the young Assassin place his hand on Maya’s shoulder. Maya only nodded her head at him, and then looked up at Connor. “We all need to talk about tomorrow.” She told him.

 

Without another word, she turned and walked out of the house. Connor wished the Assassins were not becoming involved in the conflict; but, with John Pitcairn leading the coming charge, he could hopefully end it before it got out of hand.

 

* * *

 

 

Maya was confused.

  

Of course, the information she received earlier, regarding John Pitcairn’s true interest in Sam Adams and John Hancock had irritated her, but, seeing Connor again had given her emotions she was truly unfamiliar with. She needed to get away from him somehow, but the whole situation was now getting out of hand. _The shot heard ‘round the world_ , was going to possibly happen the next day. The one that began the war that created the chain of events that began the world she was born into. She now had the power to change it.

 

She twirled the rope dart in her hand idly as she thought of a plan. The forest around her was quiet, while she paced back and forth in a small clearing not far from the safe house. Maya could very well have been sent back for this very moment; to assassinate John Pitcairn before the war could break out. Thousands of lives could be saved; the Templars could be out of power within _hours_. _Yes_ , she thought. Her lips turned down into a frown at the continuous emotion that lingered in the back of her mind; she rubbed her temples at a sudden headache.

 

_Connor_.

 

The markings on her arms had darkened more within the recent months, and especially since the Shroud had made itself known within her body after one of her recruits became injured during a scuffle. But, what bothered her most was the attraction towards Connor Kenway had come back with a vengeance. He had filled his robes even more than before; his shoulders had broadened, the muscular definition in his arms had grown, his chest-- _Stop!_

Maya shook her head sharply. No. She couldn’t give in. The attraction was dangerous enough; she had to go back to where she belonged; and _soon_. She could feel it. But, the feeling had strengthened when she was near him; as though whatever connection she had opened grew even more. _Damn him_. She was hoping to hand over Sam Adams and John Hancock in exchange for the damned information regarding John Pitcairn, and be off with continuing her mission to strengthen the Brotherhood. She had planned to extend it into New York. But _no_. Fate threw her a curve ball of _shit_. There was _no_ way she was going to leave the people defenseless. The extra shipment of weapons that was _supposed_ to be given to the people of Lexington had been destroyed; hence, why Maya and the Assassins chose to escort Sam Adams and John Hancock in the first place.

 

The snapping of a twig behind her caused Maya to stop, but before she summoned her blade from the bracer strapped to her left wrist, she _knew_ it was the one man she wanted so badly to avoid. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. _He wants to talk_ \--it was something that Maya _knew_. Minerva’s cursed warning of a _connection_ that had opened between the _Adam and Eve_ , as the holographic wench had put it, reminded Maya of why she could _feel_ what he was thinking or when he was near. Was the attraction from _him_? Maya shook her head, _No; it couldn’t be_.

 

“What do you want, Connor?”

 

Maya opened her eyes and turned her gaze to him. Her heart stopped; he looked _amazing_ in the moonlight. It could have been a trick on her eyes, but the beams from the moon had directed their light onto him. His hood was back, exposing his face to her--a pet peeve he knew she had. His nearly black eyes had trained onto her; his fists were clenched at his sides, as though they were _resisting_ something.

 

_Resist touching her_.

 

Maya swallowed harshly as the thought came to her mind as if Connor had spoken it aloud. Finally, after an agonizing silence, he stepped towards her. “We need to talk about what you are _planning_ , Maya.”

 

_Dammit_.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a review for me and let me know what you think! Or a kudos if you enjoyed it! Thank you!


	13. XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle of Lexington is just around the corner; and Maya has to help Connor as well as try to keep her Assassins alive.

“I’m not planning _anything_.”

 

It was a lie, but there was no way in _hell_ Maya would admit that to Connor. She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin up in her stubborn defiance. His eyes narrowed, as he glared back at her. The silence between them had created such a thick tension, that Maya was beginning to suffocate. Finally, Connor moved swiftly as he stalked towards her, and stopped just in front of her. _Oh boy_. Maya could feel the markings that adorned her arms tingle, but she ignored it, as she stared up at him. “You’re going after Pitcairn.” He told her.

 

Maya noticed he didn’t _ask_. She narrowed her eyes up at him; _damn_. She didn’t want _anyone_ to know. The only person she told of her plans to strike at Pitcairn was Clipper. But--he wouldn’t tell Connor. _Would he_? “How’d you know about that?” Maya stepped into him and tried to ignore the way her chest tightened at the sudden closeness to him. All she had to do was tilt her head up a bit more-- _stop_! She clenched her eyes shut momentarily, and opened them up to him.

 

_Back up, back up!_ His gaze seemed to... _smolder_. _Not good_.

  

She attempted to step back, but Connor stepped into her. “If you think you will do this without my help, you have lost your head!”

 

“I don’t _need_ your help, Connor! I’ve done fine without it for the past year!” Maya tilted her head to the side, “While you were _hogging_ the Aquila, and going along on your little sea trips, I’ve been busy trying to recruit, train, and help educate the Brotherhood!”

 

“And just who do you think did the same with the recruits you sent to the Homestead while you and _Clipper_ were busy with your _missions_?”

 

Maya noticed his sneer at Clipper’s name. _No way; was he jealous_? She stifled a laugh and shook her head. “Obviously, it must have been _Achilles_ , you ass!” She snapped. “Just ask Stephane _who_ educated him about Altair’s journal writings?” Maya heard about Connor’s trips to the Caribbean with the crew. The thought of him possibly finding his _future_ wife soon caused her blood to boil. _Dammit_! “While you were busy prancing around with Mister Faulkner in the Caribbean, and probably some--” She stopped herself before she let the sudden jealousy overtake her sense of logic.

 

His eyes widened slightly and then narrowed. “Some _what_?”

 

“Forget it, Connor.” Maya waved her hand down. “Tomorrow, we help hold down the town. _If_ my education is correct, tomorrow will be the start of a chain of events that could make or break _everything_ around us, and the world I know. Be ready for it.”

 

Maya walked past him towards the camp the Brotherhood had made outside of the safe house. The familiar tingling sensation that ran along the markings adorning her arms subsided with the distance she put between herself and Connor. Maya wanted to tell Connor about the past year; with her experience of the artifact she now _hosted_. She cringed at the thought; she felt like an _alien_. Not only did the dreams from Minerva clue her in, but a small--no, a _big_ change had told her she was playing a whole new ball game. Maya felt the need to tell Connor, but instead, she was shocked at herself with the sudden wave of jealousy she felt as they argued. She remembered Minerva’s warning of a _connection_ that was opened when she kissed the stoic Assassin, but the wave of emotions she felt was overwhelming. It was difficult identifying which were her own.

 

“Great.” She mumbled. _As if his damned good looks weren’t distracting enough?_

* * *

 

 

The firing lines had already been set up. But, as Maya and the other Assassins followed Connor towards the old man that was coughing up a lung between his commands at the firing lines, she could feel her heart rate rising. Not only was she going to participate in one _hell_ of a historical event, but, she would never admit just how scared she was. She could hear the distant marching of the incoming redcoats; her eyes did a quick scan of the colonists that stood nearby. The fear was evident in the faces of the men who wanted to defend their homes. _Fear_.

 

Her feet stopped moving; it was different to be on a mission for the Brotherhood. But this was all out war. “Maya?”

 

Clipper’s hand gently squeezed her shoulder. She glanced at him and swallowed harshly. “Clip, this is it.”

 

He nodded slowly and slightly smiled for reassurance. “But, this is for the people; they  _need_ us.”

  

Their eyes moved to the opposite of the rebel firing lines, and Maya shook her head at the high ratio of Redcoats for every Rebel. The odds looked bad. She wondered how they were going to help _hold down_ the town. Her eyes scanned the opposite firing lines and landed on the man who led the Redcoats. “ _Pitcairn_!” She heard Connor’s snarl at her side.

 

She exchanged glances with him and swallowed harshly. The anguish rolled off of him in waves; she was beginning to _feel_ it and allowed it to overtake the fear she felt as she made his emotions her own. _Damn artifact_. After the whole battle was done, Maya internally vowed she would get as far away from Connor as she could; just until she was able to understand how to close the connection she had opened with him. “Do not go after him without my help,” Connor told her.

 

Maya raised an eyebrow, but before she could tell him to piss off with his chivalry, they heard the demands of their target from across the field. “Disperse, ye damned rebels!” Pitcairn demanded with a thick Scottish accent that Maya could hear from where she stood. “Lay down your arms, and disperse!”

 

And all hell broke loose; a loud pop echoed followed by the screams of the retreating Rebels and more gunfire. She rushed into cover and saw that Connor had grabbed John Parker, pulling him to cover behind a large boulder. Her eyes quickly scanned for the other Assassins, and she sighed with relief at the sight of them all safely behind cover; for now. _Shit_ ; her mind quickly worked for a plan. Originally, Maya had wanted to take out Pitcairn during the battle; but with the Rebels quickly dying off or retreating, it became more of a mad house than a battle. The Assassins were firing their weapons at the Redcoats, and Maya waved her hand back, signaling for them to retreat to Concord. Her shoulders were grabbed, and she was hauled to her feet. “Come on! We must go to Concord!” Connor yelled as he directed her towards the road.

 

Maya followed Connor, and she quickly glanced over her shoulder to make sure the other Assassins followed safely as well. She was _not_ going to lose any more of her comrades--not if she could help it; and with the latest discovery she made a few months prior with the Shroud, Maya was going to make _sure_ the Assassins all made it out alive.

 

* * *

 

 

“Fillan!”

 

Maya’s feet skid to a stop; they were _almost_ to Concord. She turned and saw the youngest recruit of the Assassins gripping his arm. Crimson began to stain his sleeve. Maya didn’t know if Connor followed her to the side of the building that Fillan took refuge in; nor at the moment, did she care. Fillan was pressed against the wall, clenching his teeth. “How bad is it?” Maya asked as she reached for his arm.

 

She quickly glanced around and noticed the other Assassins, including Connor, had surrounded them both. “Don’t worry, Maya. It just grazed my arm but cut it pretty deep!” Fillan ground out.

 

Okay; so she had a _huge_ secret from Connor. The others knew, only because they witnessed what she had done. She had used the Shroud on Caleb, shortly after he was injured in a raid on a Templar safe house. Not only did Abigail’s journal reveal that hosting the Shroud turned her into someone “special,” but Minerva had explained to her that the artifact she touched had integrated with her blood and that the Shroud is used to _change what is_. It had proven to be quite useful but had one _huge_ setback. “Maya, we should wait until we get somewhere safer,” Duncan warned.

 

“It won’t take much,” Maya helped Fillan out of his coat, and as gently as she could amidst the chaos around them, she examined the wound. Finally, she turned to face the others. She _had_ to help the others in Concord. Her eyes landed on Caleb, “Take him to the Homestead. But, if we’re not there in two days, get him to Doctor White. Understood?”

 

Caleb gave her a quick nod and helped the injured Fillan to his feet. Fillan looked up at Maya, as a look of worry clouded his features. “I can fight. It’s just a graze, Maya.” He tried to explain.

 

“No. You’re injured, Fillan, and I’ll not lose anyone out here. Now go before I shove my foot up your ass!” Maya told him.

 

She followed the others to Concord through the chaos. All around her, people rushed to find some sort of safety from the war that now broke out around them. When they finally reached Concord, soldiers had lined up along barricades across the bridge leading into the town. Maya followed Connor, as he stalked towards two men speaking amongst themselves near the entrance of the bridge. Maya recognized one as William Dawes, and the other as James Barrett, from the deliveries that the Assassins helped with. But to her surprise, Paul Revere was nowhere in sight. The two men turned to them as Connor finally spoke, “Blood’s been spilled in Lexington, and there’s more to come. The Regulars are on the march!”

 

James walked towards Connor as the stoic expression hadn’t changed to the news Connor just delivered. “You don’t say?” He asked Connor with what Maya could hear as an obvious _Duh!_ in his tone. “Why do you think I’ve men up here?”

 

Maya scoffed at him and stepped to Connor’s side. “Mr. Barrett, I don’t think you understand the issue here. The Rebels are being overrun!”

 

He turned his attention to Maya for a moment, “You shouldn’t be here.” Before Maya could say anything about his retort towards her, James continued, “Go home, both of you. Before you get yourselves killed. I don’t need some _Green Boy_ looking to play hero.”

 

“I can vouch for him,” William spoke up. “ _Both_ of them, actually.”

 

Connor held up the parchment given to him before they ran from Lexington. “And John Parker, as well,” Connor stated.

 

James took the letter, as William walked towards them both. “Where’s Revere?” Maya asked him.

 

“Captured,” William whispered.

 

“ _What_?” Connor snapped at him.

 

Maya sighed heavily; Revere may have had a big mouth, but she knew he would keep the secrets of the Rebels. Once William reassured Connor that Revere would be alright, she turned to James as he spoke up, “You ladies finished gossiping?” He stood in front of Connor and Maya,

 

“Parker seems to believe you’re not completely useless.” Both Connor and Maya narrowed their eyes at that. “So, I suppose there’s a thing or two you might help with.”

 

“We’ll do what we can,” Maya told him.

 

James gave her a slight nod, as he gestured towards the barricades of men set up near the river bank and the bridge. “When the fighting starts, we’ll need to hold the positions there. They’re critical to the defense of Concord.” His expression softened as he placed his hands behind his back. “Good boys, not used to soldiering. They need someone with experience to direct them.” He turned his attention to Connor, and a brow rose in question, “That something you and your colleagues can do?”

 

Connor answered with a nod. Maya could feel the nervousness roll off of him. She didn’t blame him; this was war. It seemed to be more than even Connor Kenway could handle. James stepped towards him, as his features hardened. “You best be telling the truth.”

 

Connor’s jaw tightened as he straightened, “You have my word.”

 

“Then I suppose all that’s left to do, is wait.”

 

As James turned away from them, Connor looked at the Assassins behind him. “We’ll do what we can, Connor. Just give us the word.” Clipper told him.

 

“Each of us will spread out and give these men the orders. Follow my lead.” Connor told them.

 

“And what of Pitcairn?” Maya asked, curiously.

 

Connor turned his attention to her. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and she could tell that he was contemplating on abandoning his promise to fulfill his duty. We will cross that bridge when the time comes.” He answered.

 

She watched him walk away from her towards the bridge. As her eyes scanned the small amount of Rebels that stood at the barricades, she began to plan, wondering if she would be given the opportunity to take out Pitcairn herself. But, with a number of Redcoats she had seen while running from Lexington, she hoped the barricades would provide her enough cover. Otherwise, Maya could very well fall. But at least Connor would still live.

 

* * *

 

 

Connor could hear the marching from across the river coming closer as he stood near the barricades at the entrance of the bridge. He did a quick glance around as one of the rebels warned James Barrett of the Redcoats’ arrival. The Assassins, including Maya, stood near separate barricades to help command the men that held them. He mounted a horse, and set to ride across the bridge, but was stopped by James. “No!” James panicked. “Ensure my men hold those positions! If those red devils break through, we’re _finished_!”

 

Connor looked down at the rebel commander and could see the desperation in his eyes as he stared up at Connor. The men hid behind the barricades and looked as though they were going to turn and run, just as the men in Lexington did. These men _weren’t_ soldiers; they were only colonists defending their own homes. “What would you have us do?” Connor asked.

 

“Listen carefully,” James instructed. “The redcoats will form firing lines. Order the men to shoot just before the firing lines are ready. Too soon, and they’ll miss their targets. Too late, and the enemy will fire first. And,” He added, “If any of those bastards make it through, engage them. You _must_ keep my men alive!”

 

Connor nodded and hurried his horse to give the instructions to each Assassin that helped behind each of the barricades. As he made it back towards the bridge, lines across the river began to form. He could hear the commands to fire from each of his Assassins, and the musket fire began. Clipper grabbed a musket and assisted in firing any stragglers. Stephane and Maya used their pistols, in hopes that the bullets made it through. One after another, each of the men fired in groups, and passed back their used muskets while trading for the newly reloaded ones from the men behind them. It was a smart move on their part; muskets took a long while to reload. But, as he gave his command for them to fire, he could see that the redcoats outnumbered them, and some of them had begun to cross the river.

 

He pulled his pistol from the holster on his belt and fired at one of the few redcoats breaking away to cross the bridge. The men in front of him followed suit. War had broken out all around them, and from what Connor could tell, it would only get worse. He felt a sympathy for the rebels; they were not soldiers--they were farmers, merchants, and blacksmiths. They only wanted to defend their own home from an army bent on eliminating them if they didn’t follow the crown. They wanted freedom, and independence from a man that ruled over them from across the water. In a way, Connor could relate to them. Maybe there _could_ be a coexistence between his people and the colonists. When John Pitcairn called his men to retreat, realizing the Patriots, although very few, and beginning to die off, were _not_ going to stop. The Assassins would have to help them and their cause.

 

* * *

 

 

It was a scene Maya had never wanted to witness. She came to a stop just along the dirt road leading away from Concord’s bridge. The redcoats were gone, she missed her opportunity to assassinate John Pitcairn, and now, bodies of Colonists and Redcoats alike lay dead in front of her. There was _no_ reason for this to happen; _none_. They only defended themselves; the dead Redcoats died at John Pitcairn’s command. Her hands balled into fists as she stared at the bloodied road. She could hear footsteps behind her and didn’t bother to acknowledge Connor, who came to a stop at her side. “This was unnecessary.” She told him.

 

He said nothing, and she could feel the anguish radiating from him. It seemed to amplify through the connection she now knew that she had shared with him. “We should have stopped Pitcairn.”

 

“Takes a true monster to do something like this,” James Barrett’s voice came from behind them. “At least they’re gone.”

 

Maya slid him a glance and saw the pained look James had given them after he surveyed the damage in front of them. The man cared about these men; Maya would at least give him that. But, before she could open her mouth to at least give him some words of comfort, Connor turned to him. “I should have struck when I had the chance,” Connor told him. He turned his attention to James, and Maya saw the hard expression darken Connor’s features. “Do you know where Pitcairn could have gone?”

 

James had such a saddening look of defeat that Maya couldn’t help but feel bad for him. He was given the daunting task of ensuring these men stayed alive in an assault led by Pitcairn. The thought made her heart ache with guilt and her blood boil with anguish. The innocent people didn’t need to die like this; the deaths of those that lied on the ground at her feet could have been avoided. It was senseless. It was a borderline massacre. “Back into the withered bosom of the British, no doubt. So that he might regroup and plan his next atrocity.” James’ eyes could not keep off of the dead bodies he knew they would have to bury.

 

Connor stepped into him but stiffened as Maya placed a hand on his arm. He was getting frustrated, and yet, he didn’t need to put it onto the already exhausted and remorseful man that stood in front of them. He relaxed, as he slid a glance to her. _Calm down_ , she mouthed to him. He understood, and gave her a nod before turning to James. “We need to find him. Every day we wait, more will suffer.” Connor told him.

 

James looked at the two of them, and tilted his head, as his brow rose slightly. “Chin up, friend. Many who should’ve died today now live because of you.”

 

Connor nearly scoffed, as he threw his arm out to gesture to the dead. “And what of them?”

 

The older man gave a sigh of exasperation, as he looked at them one last time before he answered Connor. “We do the best with what we’ve got.”

 

As he walked away, Connor shot back at him, “It’s not enough!”

  

James stopped, but only turned his head, enough to look at the two Assassins. “It never is.”

 

Maya glanced at Connor and squeezed his arm slightly. His gaze drifted to her hand that rested on his bicep and finally rested on her face. _Regret_ and _guilt_ were the emotions she could feel from him. The Rebels weren’t defeated this day, but the price was high. War was now inevitable, and the Assassins could only help protect the innocent from the crossfire. If the Rebels needed their help, the Assassins would be there. Maya didn’t move her hand from Connor’s arm, as she felt his tense muscles begin to relax at her touch. She was sure he would have plenty of questions for her. Connor would want to know the result of this, and what to expect next; and when Maya revealed just what happened to her within the past year, it could change so much--including her reason for being there. “Let’s get back to Davenport. We have to check on Fillan, and we have a _lot_ to talk about.” She told him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I've been on vacation in Texas :) I'm enjoying myself so far, but the internet is a bit shoddy here. Please, leave a review. I would greatly appreciate it and would value your opinions!


	14. XIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor finds out Maya's secret after he witnesses what she does with one of their Assassins. Now, he realizes the importance of keeping her from the Templars' hands; but for what reason?

“Oh, would you stop being such a baby?” Maya grabbed onto Fillan’s arm, pulling it towards her. Connor watched in a mixed state of amusement and awe, as Maya examined the wound on the younger Assassin’s arm. She _had_ changed since he last saw her; now that he watched her as she interacted with the others, he had noticed one change--she had _grown_.

 

Maya was no longer the young and harsh cold-hearted woman he thought she was. _Tough love_ , he had heard her say the night prior. Watching over the others under her command as though they were all she had left in her life. She was rather protective of them. He stepped forward towards the bed that Fillan had sat on, watching as Maya moved her hand towards the wound. “It doesn’t need it, trust me.” Fillan’s blue eyes filled with worry as he moved them up from Maya’s hand to her face.

 

“ _Zip it_ , young man, and let me do what I need to do. I appreciate the worry, but I’ll be fine. I need to do this before infection _really_ sets in.” Maya ordered.

 

She was still rather beautiful to look at. The concentration was evident in her features, but they softened slightly when she slid a covert glance to Connor as he stood at her side. The others were in the room, to include Achilles, who stood near the doorway, watching silently. From under the long sleeves of her blouse, Connor could see a slight glow. Confused, he stepped forward, but stopped as Achilles finally spoke, “Wait, Connor.”

 

The Old Man had made his way into the room, his eyes fixated on Maya’s hand. Connor looked at his mentor and noticed a look of wonder and shock on the Old Man’s features. He turned his attention back to Maya, as he heard Fillan speak up through clenched teeth, “Maya. That’s enough!”

 

Maya’s face tightened into a look of pain, as she clenched her eyes shut, with her hand still plastered to Fillan’s wound. “No...” She breathed out.

 

Fillan let out a cry of pain, and Maya finally let go and turned to the side of the bed. Caleb nearly pushed Connor out of the way as he placed a pot on the floor in front of her. Maya barely missed Connor’s feet as she vomited into the pot. Connor instinctively pulled her hair back and out of the way, as he knelt at her side. “Will someone tell me what is going on?” He nearly shouted at the other Assassins in the room.

 

“The Shroud has been settling into you.” Achilles said.

  

Maya nodded her head in response, before continuing her retching into the pot. “What do you mean?” Connor asked.

 

The room was silent, and Connor began to really feel left out. By the glances they each shared with each other, they all were withholding a secret from him. Finally, Clipper, _of all people_ , cleared his throat and spoke up. “Maya’s changed.”

 

Connor felt Maya’s hand push him away from her, as she stood up. She walked through the room towards the doorway, slightly staggering. He immediately stood to follow her, but Maya held her hand back, as she braced herself against the door frame with her other hand. “Leave me alone. I’m fine.” She weakly told him.

 

Finally, she stood upright but then swayed. “Maya!” Connor cried out, and was the first to catch her as she fell back, fainting into his arms.

 

Something was going on; and Connor was going to find out what. As he bent down and picked Maya up into his arms, he realized that she felt so light. He looked at the bed in the room and saw Fillan stand, his wound completely healed. _Wow_. “That’s never happened before.” The young Assassin frowned, gesturing to Maya, as he moved aside to allow Connor to place her onto the bed.

 

“Let her rest. All of you, leave her be.” Achilles ordered. The Old Man gave Connor a prolonged glance, but his expression softened as he looked at Maya, who still was in Connor’s arms. “She has much to explain to us when she wakes.” Achilles then turned and left Connor with Maya in the room.

 

Connor _needed_ to place Maya in the bed, and let her rest. But, for some strange reason, he did not _want_ to. A strong sense of protective instinct hit him, as he stared at her face that was resting against his chest; and as Connor sat on the edge of the bed, the sight of her face resting against his chest spurred a memory of a dream he had not long before. Of Maya, resting her cheek against the bare skin of his chest; they had just made love, and she slept in the protectiveness of his arms, as he watched over her; he dreamt of how soft her skin felt under his fingertips as he lightly brushed them over her cheek; of her smile as he did so, and how warm she felt, lying against him, melting the last of the cold emotions that lingered in his heart.

 

Connor stared down at her sleeping face, and wanted to brush his fingers along her cheek, just to feel the reality of what he dreamt. But, he clenched his jaw, knowing he _shouldn’t_. She would probably awaken and hit him for it. He remembered awakening from the dream, and had realized just how much was missing from his life. Spending years as an Assassin, and aching for some kind of justice for what had happened to his mother, and fighting for those that could not defend themselves, had caused him to build around that private spot within his heart. One that he guarded so closely--until the woman that now lied in his arms, appeared into his life. After dreaming of her throughout the year they had been apart, he was conflicted upon seeing her again. Now, something involving Maya and the Shroud of Turin had caused him to genuinely _worry_ for her. “We will help you Maya.” He said aloud.

 

I _will help you_.

 

* * *

 

 

She flexed her hand as she gazed down at it. Her body was exhausted. Maya had slept through the rest of the day and into the early evening. Fainting had never been an issue with her... _problem_ before. It could have very well been blamed on exhaustion? Yes; that had to have been it. She would experience just the burning pain that would web throughout her arms, and then become violently ill, because she was taking the essence of the problem into herself. Maya had lost track of how long she gazed out the window of the room, but the sun had now completely set, allowing darkness to blanket the sky. Workers from the harbor were walking along the roads towards their homes; in the distance, Maya could see the soft glow of light coming from the Inn. Across the road, a light came from the windows of the Brotherhood Quarters. Her eyes rested onto the dark figure moving from the house that the Brotherhood occupied, towards the Manor door. By the way the figure had moved, with an overconfident strut, Maya guessed it to be Connor.

 

Her head began to hurt thinking of all the questions he would have for her. _What is to come after the events of Lexington and Concord? How will my people be affected? What the hell did you do to Fillan?_

Yeah; questions she had no logical answer to. Maya frowned as she thought of how she was beginning to _forget_ a lot of important parts of her education. She couldn’t remember exactly what would happen to Connor’s people, or what exactly would happen after Lexington and Concord, and she sure as hell can’t exactly explain what she did to Fillan. She could only explain what was written in Abigail’s journal regarding the Shroud of Turin, as well as what she had experienced.

 

Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard a quiet knock. “Maya?” The Old Man’s voice came from the outside of the door, and she was actually comforted by it.

 

Her gaze remained on the environment outside of her window as she answered, “Come in.”

  

It was now or never. As the door opened, Maya let out a sigh, and closed her eyes briefly as the soft footsteps came towards her. She swallowed harshly, and opened her eyes to see Achilles taking the seat next to her at the window. “You have something to tell me, child?” He gripped his cane in front of him, as he gazed at her with a look of sadness.

 

She stared at him quietly for a moment, before finally answering him with a nod. “I think you know, Achilles.” Her eyes moved to the window. “Abigail had the same problem.”

 

“I wouldn’t call it that.” Maya could hear the smile in his tone. “It was a gift.” He told her.

  

Maya let out a scoff. “Yeah.” She rolled her eyes incredulously. “Pain shooting up my arms, and throwing up my last meal if I use it, because I’m technically taking it from them, and into myself; it leaves me weakened and, therefore rendering me vulnerable? Now, after today, I’m assuming _fainting_ like some damsel had been added to the list of cons for this _gift_. Either Abigail had the same problems, or I got the shit end of the stick.” Maya crossed her arms over her chest, as she leaned back into her chair. She probably looked as though she were a spoiled and pouting child who didn’t get her way, but at the moment, she didn’t care. “After reading in her journal that she was able to use the Shroud to heal people of their injuries or diseases, I thought, _Okay, cool_. But then I felt like some kind of weird _freak_. How was I going to explain all this to the others without them thinking I was some kind of _kook_? So,” Maya began to bounce her leg up and down nervously as she continued explaining herself to Achilles, “I decided to wait. That is, until the holographic being who continues to be a pain in my ass, shows up telling me its true; that I had to _accept_ the Shroud of Turin, and it becomes who I am.”

 

“It _is_ who you are. You have become a rare Piece of Eden, just as Adha had been the Chalice.” Achilles interrupted, as he placed his hand onto her shoulder.

 

Maya stared at him. She didn’t like the idea of being some _host_ to an Artifact. She was a _human being_. It was bad enough the Assassins of her time seemed to use her only as a tool; but now, the First Civilization was doing the same thing. She still had no clear reason on what they wanted with her. Clearing her throat, Maya narrowed her eyes at him. “I am sick and tired of being _used_ , Achilles. I need some _clear_ reason on why I’m here. So far, over the past year, I have served this faction of the Colonial Brotherhood by helping recruit, train, and educate these men. They have indeed become like,” She stopped herself, and swallowed her last words, as she stood quickly.

 

She could feel his gaze on her back, watching her as she turned from him. “Like what, child?” He asked. When he got no response, or even a glance, he continued. “Like _family_? A _true_ family?”

 

Maya clenched her eyes shut, as she balled her hands into fists at her sides. Tears that she didn’t know she even had left to shed, had threatened her eyes to the point of pain. They were tears of _years_ of torment, frustration, and...loneliness. She worked to push them back, and quickly and covertly wiped the few stray ones that dared to fall down her cheeks, before turning to the Old Man that watched her from his chair. “Achilles, I allowed myself to care about my team. I became attached to each of them. But, because I allowed myself to see my target as a _human_ , and see my target’s daughter as a _child_ , I was captured, my team had been slaughtered, and I was tortured. It was a hard lesson to be learned, but from then on, I decided to never allow emotion dictate my choices _ever_ again.”

 

Achilles sat back in his chair, and shook his head at her. “Child, if you go along that road, then you _will_ fail at what you’ve come here to do. Whether you want to believe it or not, you’ve let your emotions dictate what you’ve accomplished over the past year.”

 

Maya absently rubbed her tattooed arms as she gazed at him. “That’s the problem, Achilles. If I _keep_ letting my emotions dictate what I do, it could destroy absolutely everything. I can’t let that happen.” She frowned, as her gaze fell to the floor, “But, I care about those men-- _all_ of them.” _Especially Connor_.

 

“Maya, listen to me,” Achilles leaned forward, and urged her to sit back in her chair. When she did, he continued, “Abigail had the same troubles when she realized what she had within her. But, she continued being compassionate, and helped the Brotherhood flourish within the Colonies. She and I worked to strengthen the relationship between the Iroquois and the Brotherhood. The artifact within her was not seen by her as some _curse_. She saw it as a gift, and she used it to help those who needed it. Abigail was a caring Assassin that protected the innocent and she was a caring wife and mother.” He swallowed the emotion that was laced within his recollection of his deceased wife. “But, you were given a gift to do the same, and finish what she had started. You are not a _tool_. If you want the Brotherhood to work together efficiently and work with the people efficiently, you have to allow yourself to be compassionate. Open your heart to the ones who need it; and allow yourself to trust your own.”

 

Maya hated to admit it, but the Old Man had a point. The men she fought alongside and lived with continuously displayed their concern over her new... _problem_. She knew they each cared about her, and although she rarely displayed it outwardly, she cared about each of them as well. They were loyal to the cause, and they were good men. Connor, on the other hand, was an entirely different situation; unfortunately, he stirred a different _kind_ of emotion within Maya. One that she wanted to continuously kick in the face, but at the same, she wanted it to overtake common sense, and beg him to kiss her senseless. _Stop it!_

She could feel the weight of his stare as it bore into her back; and when Maya turned to the door, she wanted to drool. Connor seemed to overtake the whole doorway with his presence, and he kept his gaze on her as he strode into the room. He was still dressed in his robes, but his weapons were not on his belt. Maya backed up a few steps to give herself space between them. Connor took the hint, and stopped a few steps shy of her. “Are you alright?” He asked her.

 

His voice had been soft, and laced with such concern that Maya wanted to clean her ears to ensure that she heard him correctly. When she didn’t answer, he rose a brow in question. Finally, Maya gave a sharp shake of her head and looked up at him, “Uhm, yeah. Fine.”

 

“What happened?” Connor turned to grab the other chair near them, and sat.

  

Maya glanced at Achilles, who nodded in encouragement. She sat in her chair, and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, as she ran her hands down her face. “Okay,” Maya gave an exasperated sigh, “Where do I start?”

 

Connor watched her with an impassive expression as she began to explain of how she was now the host to the Shroud of Turin, and could use it to heal the injured, and sick, at the cost of weakening her, puking her guts out, and now, fainting.

 

_Yeah. Sounds legit._

Of course, even Maya didn’t believe it at times; but then again, being from the twenty first century, and waking up in the middle of the forest, over two hundred years in the past, all while trying to _not_ fall for the legendary Assassin who sat in front of her, wasn’t exactly normal, either. Then again, she was _never_ normal.

 

* * *

 

 

_Wow_.

 

That was the only word that came to Connor’s mind after Maya’s explanation. He had seen the proof of her... _talents_. Fillan’s arm was completely healed, with only a faint scar remaining. Fillan had told Connor he felt a burning pain when Maya closed his wound, and that’s when she had turned and gotten sick. Apparently, according to the youngest of the Assassins, Maya had used it on Caleb, Stephane, and Clipper as well. Connor could not help but feel.... _betrayed_. No one within the Brotherhood had told him of this newest revelation. If the Templars were to have found out... _damn_. Maya’s eyes widened at him as he shot out of his seat. “Then you will stay here, where you can be safe.” He ordered.

 

She narrowed her eyes in confusion, as she gave her head a shake. “Wait, _what_?”

 

“Connor, I don’t think that will be necessary.” Achilles intervened.

 

But, that same protective instinct came over him. The sudden thought of Maya brutally murdered by the Templars, or used for their agenda against his people, caused his blood to boil. He was not allowing her _out_ of his sight. “No. I’ve made my decision.”

 

He didn’t stand down when her eyes burned with a golden hue, which seemed to be even _more_ evident as she slowly stood from her seat. Her temper had now reached its maximum capacity, and Connor could _feel_ it. It was aimed _right_ at him. “You will _not_ tell me what to do.” She told him. Connor stood his ground as she walked towards him. “I don’t _need_ protection. I can protect myself! The Boston house needs someone. And, I’m going to help the recruitment effort in New York, as well.” Maya said.

 

“Have _Clipper_ do it. You’re staying here. What if something happened to you?” _There_. He said it. Connor actually cared about her well-being, even if she did not.

 

But, it seemed to fly over Maya’s head, as she let out a scoff. “ _Forget_ it. I’m not staying here any longer than I have to. And what do _you_ care if something happened to me?” She threw her hand up at him at the last question.

 

What _did_ he care? Of course, it was because she was a fellow Assassin...sure, Connor felt attracted to her, but what man wouldn’t? It was the honorable thing to do, to be worried about  her well-being. But, then again, she also was now the host of an ancient artifact that only the Assassins and the Templars knew of. And, like the other pieces of Eden, an artifact in the wrong hands could spell disaster. He swallowed harshly as he looked down at her; he suddenly wanted to run his thumb lightly over her lower lip, to kiss her again; and by the way the golden hue of her eyes smoldered and darkened as she looked up at him, Connor could tell she wanted him to. Or, _hoped_ she wanted him to. _Damn her_. She was beginning to distract him from the real purpose and real problem at stake. “Because it is a risk I’m not willing to take. If the Templars were to get a hold of you, it could be disastrous.” He said.

 

“Would you _stop_ with the chivalry shit, Connor?” She told him. “Please, for once? I can take care of myself.” Maya backed away slowly, “The sooner I get done with whatever I need to get done with, and the sooner I can leave.” She softened slightly as she gave a heavy sigh. “I _told_ you I believed in you Connor. I still do. I ask that you do the same of me.”

 

The sudden change threw Connor off for a second. She had thrown up the white flag first, and cooled her temper. That _never_ happened. Maya’s gaze moved up to his, pleading with him. He gave in; he finally gave her a hesitant nod, and glanced at Achilles, who had watched them both in silence. “Thank you.” She said quietly. Connor looked at her, and their gazes locked, for a brief moment. Something felt.... _different_. She blinked, and then turned away from him. “I’ll leave in the morning.”

 

When she moved towards her bed, Achilles stood, and he motioned for Connor to leave the room. “I will need to discuss some matters with you, Connor.” Achilles told him. “Meet me in my quarters, please.”

 

He gave Achilles a quick nod, but before turning to leave, he dared another glance at the woman that frustrated his nerves to no end. She turned to look at him, and he held her gaze until the corner of mouth turned upwards slightly into a smile, and inclined her head to bid him goodnight. Connor couldn’t help himself; a smile formed on his lips in return. He could feel her still watching him as he turned and left the room. He closed the door behind him, and realized that Maya’s revelation had changed _everything_. Connor now had a sense of urgency to ensure Maya stayed out of the knowledge of the Templars. But, what it meant for her to _host_ the Shroud of Turin, was still a mystery. She told him that Minerva had revealed she was to heal what was injured; to _change_ what was wrong in time. Of course, Minerva wasn’t specific. He decided he would have a meeting with the others as soon as Achilles was finished speaking with him. It was imperative that Maya finish her mission.

 

But, most of all, Connor wanted to make sure Maya was safe. No matter what.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me for the lack of updates lately; I've been on vacation in Texas, the internet has been shoddy; but I return home tomorrow so it should be back to normal! Please, leave a comment or review; I truly value your opinions.


	15. XV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After reuniting and learning the secret Maya had kept from him, Connor begins to see a different side of her. One that has accepted her own fate, and that has begun to find purpose. It's a nice change, in his mind.

Connor stood at the fireplace of his mentor’s room, watching the flames engulf the log he had set in for the Old Man. He heard Achilles settle into the chair near him, that he used occasionally to read or play a game of _Fanorona_ with whomever was willing to join. His eyes moved to look at Achilles, and he caught a glimpse of a small leather bound book placed onto the small table before the Old Man set his hand on top of it. “I cannot stress just how important it is to ensure Maya finish what she is here to accomplish.” Achilles said. Connor had caught some of the conversation Maya had with him earlier. He frowned as Achilles looked up at him with a look of sadness. “From what Abigail could gather, the artifact fixes what is _broken_ in history. Whether it be an event, or a person. But, I believe that you and Maya both have purposes that are intertwined.”

 

_Intertwined_? Connor was sent to ensure the land his people resided on was kept out of Templar hands. Unless he was set to fail, Maya’s purpose should have nothing to do with his-- _right_? “So, Abigail somehow had the Shroud as well? What was her purpose?” He asked his mentor.

 

Achilles rarely spoke of his deceased wife; but since Maya’s appearance, Achilles spoke of his wife as though she was in the same situation Maya was now in. Achilles’ mouth turned into a thin line, and he gave Connor a blunt answer, “Abigail was killed before she could complete her purpose.” The Old Man looked up at him, “Which is why it is _important_ that Maya stays alive. Otherwise, the Shroud will only continue its attempts at fixing whatever it is that is in need of being fixed.”

 

Connor suddenly became frustrated. How could he help Maya when even _she_ had no idea what she would need help with? “She does not even know what she has to do! How am I to be of any assistance to her?”

 

Achilles only watched him for a moment, and finally said, “You both will know when the time comes.”

 

_Wonderful_ ; the Old Man was being just as cryptic as the First Civilization had been. He shook his head at the answer he received, “I do not understand the secrecy behind this artifact. We are not experts on the Shroud, and we are not mind readers either. How is that answer supposed to help any of us?”

 

“Because it is different for _everyone_. Abigail and I realized her purpose when the appropriate time came. Because you and Maya are _both_ designated ‘guardians’--you being of the land the Temple sits on, and Maya being the guardian of the Shroud--I believe there is a _link_ between you two. I believe that is the reason both of you were brought together; whether you want to admit it or not, Connor. You and Maya _must_ work together to ensure that you _both_ finish your duties. Otherwise, what Juno had told you _will_ come true.” With that, Achilles stood and grabbed the small book from the table. “Now, I bid you good night. Think of what I had said.”

 

Connor would try to think of what Achilles had told him; but so far, Connor felt helpless. Something needed to be done _now_. He needed to figure out what he could do to help Maya complete what she needed to do, and he also had to ensure that the land, and Maya, stayed out of Templar hands.

 

* * *

 

At least it was a step towards the right direction. Maya was shocked at herself by cooling her temper before it had exploded on Connor the night before. Maybe being away from him _was_ the best thing. It had given her space that she wanted, so she was able to get the job done--whatever that job was. She was able to accept her situation on her own terms; Connor was a distraction that she could not have. But, she was taking Achilles’ advice, for once, and was going to work on _trust_.

 

She began to arm herself, ensuring each of her weapons and pouches were secured on her weapons’ belt. However, she paused when she picked up the small tomahawk that was light, and small enough just for her. A smile formed on her lips as she remembered when she received it. It was the morning she left to live in Boston, and Connor had shoved it into Maya’s hand, after she stubbornly refused. Now, Maya couldn’t leave home without it; but there was _no way in hell_ she would admit that to Connor.

 

She turned and left the room and walked down the steps towards the main floor. It was early morning, and the smell of freshly cooked food lingered in the air, causing Maya’s stomach to growl. Following the aroma of biscuits and eggs, Maya wandered into the kitchen, and saw a freshly cooked feast on the table, ready for her taking. Biscuits, eggs, sliced meat of what Maya could only guess was pork, apples and milk were spread like a buffet. Achilles must have asked Corrine to cook for the Brotherhood before they departed back to Boston. Maya wondered if it would be rude that she just helped herself, and with a shrug, she answered herself by grabbing a warm biscuit and an apple. She shoved the biscuit into her mouth, holding it there, while she poured milk into a cup. “Oh _gods_ , I’m starving.” She mumbled to herself, her speech muffled by the biscuit in her mouth.

 

A noise behind her caused her to turn towards the doorway. Connor, in his wonderful way of showing up at the most _convenient_ times, stood at the door, watching her curiously. Maya placed the jug of milk back onto the table, and ripped the biscuit out of her mouth as she bit off a piece. “What?” She chewed. “A girl’s gotta eat!”

 

Her eyes moved up to look at him, and she caught a glimpse of a smirk as he made his way past her towards the food. He was fully adorned in his robes, boots, and gloves. But, his hair had not been pulled back out of his face as usual. It was freely hanging around his face, giving Maya a sudden vision of what she would see first thing in the morning, were her life _normal_.

 

_Gods, he was so cute...shut up, Maya!!_

She swallowed harshly, as she watched Connor pile his plate with food. He turned, and sat at the table in the kitchen, and prepared to eat. He stopped, and gestured his hand towards the seat across from him. “Are you going to sit?”

 

“No.” Maya quickly answered before shoving the biscuit back into her mouth to avoid any further conversation. _Yeah. Great plan. Stuff your mouth full of food, look like an outright pig, all to avoid talking to the guy_.

 

They both ate in silence, while Maya kept her gaze plastered to the floor at her feet, as though it were suddenly interesting to study the cracks within the floor boards. She could feel the weight of his stare, and it was beginning to annoy her. Finally, after what seemed like _hours_ of agonizing silence, Connor cleared his throat and spoke. “It looks as though you’re favoring the tomahawk.” _Shit_. Her eyes moved up to look at him, as he tilted his head with a feigned look of curiosity, “Is that the one I had given you before you left for Boston?”

 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh har, har, Connor.” She replied sarcastically.

 

He couldn’t hold back his smug little smirk as he shoved his fork into his mouth. “How is that working for you?”

 

Connor wanted Maya to admit he was right; to _rub_ her face into it. He wanted to laugh and say, _told you so_! Maya decided to turn the tables on him, and pulled the Tomahawk from her belt, staring at it with admiration. “Actually Connor, I had a nice gentleman show me a thing or two on how to handle such a strong,” She paused purposely, as she looked up at him with a smile, “ _Tool_.”

 

She bit into her apple, and smiled slightly when his eyes darkened as he looked up at her. “Oh really?” He said.

 

Maya let out a laugh as she put her weapon back into its holster on her belt. She drank the rest of her milk, and turned to walk out of the kitchen, with her food in her hands. “I’m going to see if the others are ready to get going.” She told him as she left.

 

When she was finally outside of the house, and making her way towards the Brotherhood house, she frowned slightly. When Connor’s eyes darkened at her _joke_ , she could feel his _anger_. Was he angry with her, or someone else? Why did it _matter_ if he was angry with her or not? Or...was he _jealous_? Maya shook her head at herself and let out a scoff. _No, he couldn’t be._

 

* * *

 

_Another gentleman_ , Connor thought with a sneer. This time, he didn’t deny the reason he would like to meet this “gentleman” and rip his arms off. For one, no doubt this man that Maya spoke of was nowhere _near_ respectful towards her. The type of men that ran around Boston and the Frontier were not good enough for her. She deserved someone who would treat her honorably, not allow her to think of herself as just some _prostitute_ , could handle her temper, and ensure she stayed safe.

 

He helped load the last of the crates that contained supplies for the Boston house, onto the wagon that was on its way to the harbor. Stephane and Caleb got into the driver seat of the wagon. “We will be at the harbor, Connor, loading these onto the ship.” Caleb told him.

 

The others had already made their way to the ship; Clipper was staying behind, because it was his turn to rotate out of the safe house to train and help Connor and Achilles with anything they needed assistance with. Connor gave the two Assassins a nod, and turned towards the Manor as the wagon left. He walked up the steps towards the door, and leaned against the frame, watching an exchange between Maya and Achilles within the foyer. Achilles handed Maya a small wrapped package. “This is the other journal by Abigail. It will help you learn more of the truth, and answer any questions you have left. But, do not rush to read through it, Maya. You will have most of your questions answered as you move forward from this point on.” The Old Man told her.

 

Maya looked at the package in her hand and placed it into her pack that she had strapped against her back. “Thank you, Achilles.” She said softly.

 

A smile formed on his lips as he watched Maya embrace Achilles. It was a definite change; she never seemed capable of showing affection towards another human being; no matter _how_ much respect she had for them. Achilles had a look of shock on his face momentarily, but then returned the embrace to her. After a moment, Maya pulled away, and placed her hands on his shoulders, “I know how much this means, giving me journals of your wife. I want you to know, that I am truly honored that you would bestow them upon me.”

 

“Oh child; you will soon realize that they belong to you.” He smiled. “Safe travels, Maya, and please do not hesitate to call upon me if you need anything.”

 

Maya nodded, and Achilles turned to Connor and gave him a nod, as if to let him know that he was finished with his farewell with her. The Old Man turned and walked away towards the back of the manor, and Maya adjusted her pack as she turned to Connor. “Ready?” She asked.

 

He gestured his arm toward the door, letting her lead the way out of the manor. As they began their walk toward the harbor, he finally spoke up. “Will you be alright?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Connor wanted to tell her that he was concerned for her safety, now that the whole Brotherhood knew of her... _change_. But, he decided against that, knowing she would only become irritated, which would in turn, change their conversation into an argument. One that he was not in the mood to have. He focused instead on the larger situation that was now beginning to brew around them. “In Boston. What happened in Lexington and Concord will surely have an impact within the city. Will you need more help?” He asked.

 

After a moment of silence, Maya let out a sigh. “I don’t know, Connor. I’m pretty sure we will manage. The Templars will seek to infiltrate both the Redcoats and the Patriots, and use their positions to gain leverage. They’ll see it as the perfect opportunity to take control of the land, and grasp that control as well. The only thing we can do, is focus on them, and focus on those getting caught in the crossfire.” She paused, and turned her gaze to him, with a look of sadness. “Shit is about to hit the fan, Connor. Tension within this whole country will begin to boil over. I think the real question should be whether or not the Assassins can withstand it?”

 

That troubled Connor; he stopped in his tracks, and Maya stopped, turning to him. “Are you saying the Assassins will fail? What is going to happen, Maya?”

 

She walked towards him, and came to a stop as she stood directly in front of him. Her head tilted upwards, and Connor tried to ignore the urge to brush the stray black strand of her hair that flew into her face. “Connor, I _feel_ the change happening each day I’m here. For some reason, I’m becoming forgetful of my own education of what I know, as well as important dates and events. But, what I do know, is that somewhere, somehow, the Templars had gained so much power, that the balance has shifted completely. Your descendant, Desmond, is considered the one to be able to save the world from utter destruction. The Templars have nearly every Piece of Eden, and use them to control mankind into their way of thinking. There was a _reason_ Minerva had charged the Assassins to guard these Pieces. Not only do we have those that are immune to their affects, but we also are taught that freedom can achieve peace. Not _order_ under privileged rulers. Mankind rules over himself. Minerva believed this. Now, we believe that bringing the Pieces together may help stop whatever it is that will come.” She paused, and Connor swallowed harshly as her gaze moved to his chest, as her hand idly began picking at one of the buttons on his robes. “But I have to allow myself to fix whatever needs to be fixed, first. That way, your descendant can continue his mission.”

 

_His descendant_? The words sounded strange as he thought of them. Who would be the one that would help him keep his line going? He had not met any woman that had peaked his interest enough to bring her into his secretive lifestyle. Connor stared down at the woman in front of him. In a different situation, he would not have needed to meet _another_ woman to bring into his lifestyle; not when he knows of one who was born into it. But, the fact that Maya belonged somewhere else had killed that thought immediately. “And what happens when you fix what is broken?” He had to clear his throat at the hoarseness of his voice.

 

To his dismay, Maya’s hand left his chest as she looked up at him. “I assume I go where I belong.”

 

The truth hurt. When he first met Maya, she was temperamental, infuriating, and had a quick fuse. She had been angry all the time; but now, it seemed to Connor, that she felt she had a purpose, which calmed her, and helped her embrace her complicated situation. When they first met, he could not wait for her to get everything completed, so she could go back to where she came from, and irritate those in her own time with her foul attitude. Now, he did not want her to leave. He wanted to learn more from her; more about what the future held--for the Assassins, the country, and most importantly, his _people_. He wanted to learn more about what it meant to be a descendant of the human hybrids; the advanced relics that he would no doubt need to find; and, he wanted to learn more about _her_. What happened to her that angered her so much, and darkened her compassion that was now beginning to show? Maya nearly caused him to jump out of his thoughts as she pat his chest with a small smile. “Nice to have a civilized conversation, isn’t it?” She asked, before turning to leave. “Come on, we need to get to the _Aquila_. I’ve missed Mister Faulkner, and the crazy canon brothers.”

 

He smiled slightly, as he picked up his pace to follow her.

 

_Yes, it was nice_. _Nice indeed_.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to leave a review. It's been a long time since I've updated, school had started and so I'm super busy. Good thing this entire fic is completed on my laptop, so all I'm doing is uploading chapters :) Thank you for your patience!


	16. XVI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been some time since Maya had revealed her secret. Connor seems to be enjoying this new side of her; one that has dedicated her time and life to further the cause and help him in any way she can. She's recruited more Assassins for him within Boston so Connor could concentrate on hunting the Templars and destabilizing their Order. The time they'd spent together allowed them to get to know each other over time.

“Captain, I don’t see why we’re going through this trouble for the small amount of supplies. We’re not expected to Boston for another few days.”

 

Connor allowed the corner of his mouth turn upwards at Robert Faulkner’s attempt to make sense of making their trip to Boston. He glanced at the older man, and watched him as Robert scratched his head. The older man was right; Maya and the others were not expecting another supply drop and debrief until Connor was to return from Philadelphia. Not only that, but he could understand Robert’s caution; the waters had recently become increasingly dangerous since the war had started a few months prior. The British were attempting to strike the Colonists where it would hurt the most--through their supplies and trade. The Aquila was involved in a few scuffles with British Merchant ships recently as well; which caused the Assassins to plan supply drops from the Homestead only when they truly needed it. But today was different. Connor felt the need to see Maya, and tell her in person that he made his decision to travel to Philadelphia to witness what Samuel Adams insisted to be a very important event. “I have a few things I would like to discuss with those at the safe house, Mister Faulkner.” Connor answered.

 

Robert followed him as he made his way toward the wheel, attempting to rationalize Connor’s reason. Connor’s fingers gripped the spokes, and his mind drifted to the past few months he was able to spend with the other Assassins. Since the war had begun, and Connor found out what happened with Maya and the Shroud, things were...different, to say the least. Maya shocked him by speaking civilly with him each time they met. She allowed him to inquire about the future of the Brotherhood, and what she knew about his people. Although her answers were rather vague, it gave him the opportunity to understand where she came from. It gave him a glimpse of her life, no matter how confused he was. Connor was in awe at the advancements that Maya spoke of, but also shocked at how violent the world had become. Connor was even more shocked at how the Assassins operated due to desperation. She eventually confided in Connor recently, that she was in fact used by the Assassins to gather information from the Templars, by any means possible.

 

It was a fact that still caused Connor to grit his teeth as he tightened his grip on the spokes of the wheel. He remembered her regret as she told him all she had done, but in turn, she expressed how she felt as though she now had a purpose. Now; with the Brotherhood....with him. It was that confession that changed how he looked at her each time he saw her; which became more often than before. He made frequent trips to Boston to help with the others, especially now that the tension between the Redcoats and the Patriots had boiled over into all out war. In turn, Maya frequently visited the Homestead, often accompanied by one of the other Assassins. It gave her a chance to repair any weapons or clothing, but it also gave her a chance to gain trust and a working relationship with the merchants within the Homestead. It was during one of her trips to the Homestead, that she was acquainted with two of their newest additions to the Brotherhood; William de Saint-Prix, a well established Assassin from France, and Emily Burke, a woman who lived on a farm outside of Lexington that proved to be a strong ally of the Assassins. William had been extremely helpful to the Boston safe house, and even used his nobility status amongst the Patriots to gain valuable information for the Brotherhood. Connor and Maya were able to use the information to plan strategic moves and allowed them to stay one step ahead of the Templars.

 

His attention turned to a young crew member carrying a dress box and a hat box from Ellen’s shop. “Excuse me.” Connor called out from the wheel.

 

Robert abruptly stopped his ramblings on why they shouldn’t make the trip, and turned his attention to the crew member that stood and waited for Connor to continue. “Place that within my cabin, please. I do not want it to be damaged.” Connor ordered.

 

_Damn_.

 

He could feel the heat color his cheeks as he cleared his throat. Connor could _also_ feel the suspecting stare from Robert. He covertly glanced sideways to look at his companion, and saw the smile begin to form on Robert’s lips. “Ah! I see, Captain.” The old man took a few steps towards Connor.

 

Connor pushed his tricorn hat downward, hoping it would cover some of the evident embarrassment that surely now colored his face. He stopped his hands from adjusting his coat, and he narrowed his eyes at Robert. The man stood, staring at Connor with a grin that accused him of something other than delivering supplies and a message. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Connor finally took a deep breath and lifted his shoulder in a shrug as he prepared to command the ship to set sail. “That dress needs to be in perfect condition so Maya may use it for a gala she is attending to find out who was gathering information on the Patriots and giving it to the Templars.”

 

Robert nodded his head, and cleared his own throat into his fist, before he placed his hands behind his back. “Maya will look,” Robert paused, with a look of contemplation before he continued. He looked at Connor and emphasized his next statement. “ _Ravishing_ in the dress, I am sure. But, like the other clothing from Ellen that is now down below the deck, I’m sure it won’t be tarnished if it were to be with the other boxes.”

 

Just _what_ was Robert saying to him? Connor wanted to make sure that Maya’s dress and hat would not be ruined, otherwise she...he shook his head sharply. “It’s different.” He finally told Robert, _and himself_. “Prepare to set sail, Mister Faulkner.”

 

Robert finally backed away, and Connor watched as the crew prepared to set sail for Boston. He tried to hide the smile that threatened to stretch on his own lips at the thought of how Maya _would_ look in the dress. She did need it, and said she would be traveling to the Homestead to retrieve it. But, Connor felt it would be much easier to deliver it to her. Whether it would be easier for _him_ , he didn’t know.

 

But he was ready to find out.

 

* * *

 

 

Maya _hated_ dresses. They were restraining, and she felt clumsy when she moved in them. During her own time, Maya didn’t need to fight _too_ much. Usually, as a Courtesan, she would already have her target...indisposed by the time she needed to strike. Things were much different now. Not only did she avoid any type of intimate contact in order to get any information, but she found out that she would not need to. Abigail Davenport’s journal was helpful; men during this time needed only to think they would receive something from a beautiful woman willing to give it, and they were hooked. Especially the lowest of the Templar Totem Pole.

 

She stood at William’s side, drinking wine as the guests of Israel Putnam’s gala mingled around her. Her keen hearing picked up on a few conversations about the war now going on, the gossip of the women about who was supposedly screwing who, and the men using the gala as a way to plan their next move. It was the elite of the Patriots in attendance, and Israel Putnam invited Maya and William to the party; mainly because of Maya’s relationship with the harsh General. It didn’t come as a surprise to her when she picked up on a few conversations of what her relationship was with General Putnam. Conversations that caused Maya to scoff, and declare ridiculous. Sure, she visited the General as often as she could, but she admired his strength and determination. His very presence demanded respect, and although he came off as rather cynical, he was, in Maya’s eyes, and obviously in the eyes of the men he commanded, a wonderful leader. But Israel had expressed to Maya that he and his wife have wanted a daughter; and that if he were to have one, he would want her to be what Maya was--strong willed, stubborn, intelligent, and surprisingly, independent. However, with the few snide remarks he would make toward William of his “pansy” heritage, Maya _knew_ it was what others would call, _fatherly protectiveness_. She always enjoyed his reaction to her bringing him cigars from Cuba whenever the Aquila would return from their overseas trade routes.

 

But now, she stood in the middle of his home, concentrating on something other than gossiping and drinking to her heart’s content. She knew the men within the Sons of Liberty had accepted her as a woman, and not just as a woman of “other than white” descent. Mostly due to Samuel Adams and his knowledge and work with the Assassins. William on the other hand, had no problem being integrated into the society of the noble elite. He was a Frenchman, one that was a common ally amongst the Patriots now, although they fought a bloody war not long before. And, it was because of that, that he became a valuable asset to the Assassins in the Colonies. He helped Maya integrate smoothly within the Sons of Liberty, which allowed her to weed out the moles, and get information on the Templars. It was a blessing in disguise; because of the war, it was becoming more difficult to determine whether or not couriers were working strictly for the Redcoats, Patriots, or Templars, without revealing too much of the Assassins.

 

Her eyes scanned those around her, and she put the glass of wine to her lips as she felt William’s hand touch the small of her back. “Charles Lee has arrived.” He whispered to her.

 

Quickly and covertly, Maya’s eyes moved to the side, catching a glimpse of Charles Lee and another man. One that she now recognized from the portraits back in the manor at the Homestead; Thomas Hickey. Maya watched, furrowing her brow with a slight confusion at Charles’ appearance. The man’s clothing was finely tailored, with elaborate detail and care, but the bags under his eyes told Maya what stress he must have been under, and what little sleep he’s probably received. His pepper colored hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, but his rather extreme receding hairline had her guessing whether or not he had a habit of pulling out his hair. “Looks as though he’s trying to give off the impression that all is well for him.” Maya commented loud enough for William to hear her.

 

But, Maya’s heart stopped when Charles’ piercing green eyes landed directly onto her. A sudden _Oh shit_ overwhelmed her, as though he knew exactly who she was, and why she was there. Given the look of his curiosity as he stared at her, it seemed as though he recognized her, but couldn’t remember how. The thought suddenly scared her, giving her a near panic attack at the memory of being found out during a mission in her own time, costing the lives of her teammates and earning her unbearable torture. As though he could sense her anxiety beginning to rise, William took the glass out of her hand, and placed it onto the table at their side. “Come.” He said to her as he took her hand. “We dance.”

 

The distraction was what Maya needed to gather her thoughts back. William’s hand at her back pushed her closer towards him as he moved her around the floor along with the other guests that had chosen to dance as well. “What happened?” He asked her.

 

Maya shook her head, trying to answer that for herself. There should have been no reason for Charles Lee to stare at her as though he recognized her; and there sure as hell shouldn’t have been a reason on why it scared her. “It just unnerved me with the way Charles looked at me, is all.” She told him.

 

 She was grateful that William was with her; another Assassin with the same goal as she, and with the same secrets. Moving her eyes up to look at him, Maya began to notice just how intently his own eyes watched her; not with lust, but rather with concern. She also began to notice other things about William recently, with the time they were spending together working for the Brotherhood. They played off at these gatherings as a couple to those outside of the small circle that knew better. His dark brown hair was pulled back, and tied at the nape of his neck, and his chiseled features softened as he lifted the corner of his lip into a coy smile that screamed _bad boy_ under his outward noble image. He was extremely intelligent, and knew just how to charm his way out of trouble if need be. From what Maya could remember of her own education, William now reminded her of what she learned of another famous Assassin within the Brotherhood-- _Ezio_. William might as well have been a French remake for all she knew. His next statement proved just how much of a Playboy William could be. “You realize how beautiful your eyes are when you are so deep in thought? It is no wonder men were so easily taken with you, Maya.”

 

Maya nearly scoffed at that. _If you only knew why they were so taken with me_ , she thought. But, she only gave him a smile, and blinked her eyes at him. “I don’t think that would be the reason why, William.”

 

He gave her a heavy sigh, and shook his head as he expertly glided around the floor with her. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like, if we were to be together?”

 

Maya knew better. She had spent enough time with William to know that his flirtatious comments he constantly threw her way were harmless. But, as his question sank in, Maya did wonder--but not with William. Instead, her thoughts floated to another Assassin she had recently begun to allow herself to trust; Connor. She allowed herself to smile at the thought of him; the recent months finally allowed her to work alongside him. It also gave her the opportunity to answer what questions she could, all while getting to know the Assassin she _did_ learn about. No longer did Maya see the arrogant hot-head she met; since they decided to declare a truce and focus on the issue around them, she got to know the honorable, honest, and kind man. His confusion when she attempted to explain to him what a cell phone was, caused her to laugh to herself. It was during the times she did spend with Connor, that she felt she could really be what she wanted to be--happy.

 

Not once did Connor judge her for what she had done as a Courtesan; he didn’t look at her with disgust when she admitted to him of just _how_ she got information. He only listened, and offered no advice. Surprisingly, he only asked more questions about _her_. Questions no one else _bothered_ to ask her; questions like, what her relationship with her father was like, or what she wanted to do differently in her own life. She became comfortable around him--perhaps... _too_ comfortable. A frown began to form on her lips as she remembered that one day, she would leave and he would continue with his own life, while she would return to the mess that was her own.

 

Finally, Maya shook her head of her thoughts, not wanting to ruin her friendship she was beginning to develop with him. It was those exact thoughts that caused her to be so bitter to him in the first place; and she would rather leave him on friendly terms than sour ones. A loud and nearly irritating voice filled her ears, and her gaze followed it to land on Thomas Hickey. Her mind began to work, as she watched how he was less than subtle of how he reacted to a pair of breasts in his face. As she watched his hands trail down the poor woman’s dress, Maya finally saw the weak spot of the Templars. She swallowed the bile that suddenly rose in her throat at the thought of how she would have to go about exploiting the weak link, but, whatever was good for the Brotherhood and the cause was what mattered.

 

The dance ended, and Maya looked up at her companion. “I know the weak spot. I may have a way to find out some extremely vital information that can help us, and possibly help the Patriots as well.” She told him.

 

William glanced over at Thomas Hickey, and lifted his lip in disgust, knowing exactly what she was planning to do. William knew what Maya was, and _when_ she was from, and by the look of disbelief he gave her, it was obvious he had an idea of what she was planning. “It will have to wait for another time, of course. Tonight would be _too_ obvious. But, I need to plan it out. I just don’t know how expressive I should be toward him without going out of boundary.” Maya frowned slightly.

 

A booming voice broke her thoughts. “Well, my dear, I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

 

Israel Putnam chewed on the end of his cigar as he offered her a glass of wine. She took it gladly, and smiled up at the General, “Yes, thank you. And, don’t forget, we still have a few plans to discuss tomorrow.”

 

His cigar pointed downward with his frown, and his eyes narrowed at her. “I told you, absolutely not.”

 

Maya grinned, as she blinked her eyes up at him. “Now, now, General. I understand your concern for me, but you have to understand that I know exactly what I’m doing. I can help you win that battle if you allow me to. Plus, it will allow me to get to who I need to get to.”

 

Israel shook his head. “I said _no_ , young lady.”

  

Deciding not to push his buttons, Maya let it end there. She knew that not only was it inappropriate for a woman to be anywhere near a battle taking place, but she knew he was also concerned for her well being. It was bad enough that he had scolded her for a mission she helped with by overtaking a fort with the Assassins, therefore giving the Patriots control. Finally, Maya decided she needed to plan her next move on just how she was going to handle the “weak link” of the Templars, and the party was beginning to bore her to tears. She lightly pat her hand on his chest with a playful smile, “I will see you tomorrow, General. I must bid you goodnight, though. Thank you for the wine.”

 

He took her wine glass and accepted the friendly kiss she gave him on his cheek. Maya turned, and walked toward the door on William’s arm. She made sure they walked past Thomas Hickey and the poor girl who now sat on his lap. When Thomas took a break from goggling at the woman’s cleavage in his face, he glanced up at Maya as she walked past; and when Maya locked gazes with him, only a thought of Connor and his smile kept her from throwing up her dinner when she gave Thomas the most provocative smile she could muster.

 

And when they were finally out of sight, and ready to board the carriage to go back to the Safe house, Maya could only frown at the heavy weight she suddenly felt. She may just very well have to go back to her old self in order to get what the Brotherhood needs.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’ve been quiet since we left. Are you alright?” William’s voice was laced with concern as he placed his hand gently over Maya’s.

 

Maya’s gaze moved down to his hand over her own, and she shook her head solemnly. “I’m fine.” She looked at her friend, with a small smile to reassure him. “Really.”

 

His eyes narrowed at her, and he sat back against his seat. “You know, Maya, as far as I can tell from what you have told me, the men here are different than the men you interacted with. It is not customary to be so open in public.”

 

With a roll of her eyes, Maya looked out the window, catching the occasional necking couple in the dark against the wall of an alleyway, in hopes they won’t be caught. “I don’t want it to have to go that far. But, if that’s what it takes to get the man to talk, then so be it. I think that if I played my cards right, I’ll be able to get the man to spill the beans about the movements of each of the high standing Templars he hangs around with.” She then looked at William, with a look of resignation. She knew of Connor’s desire to take out Charles Lee above all else. Perhaps, this was something she could do for him before she left. “ _Including_ Charles Lee.”

 

William watched her for a few moments, and as the carriage pulled slowly to a stop in front of the safe house, he leaned forward towards her. “You do not have to sell your virtue to get _any_ man to fall under your spell, Maya. I do not believe it will take much for you to get Thomas Hickey to talk. You do not understand just what a few kind words and a smile can do to a man. All you will have to do is just put the emotion behind it as well in order to find your way in.”

 

He gave her a quick smile and wink before turning away from her, leaving her nearly dumbfounded at his words as he opened the door. Almost immediately, the disgust with herself and Thomas Hickey left her mind, and at William’s revelation, she thought of Connor. She had done exactly that with him, and yet, it still seemed as though everything was friendly, but _strictly_ business with him. Not that she could blame Connor for it; even if he was slightly attracted to her as much as she was to him, he had to know the reality. With a sigh, as she took William’s offered hand so he could help her out of the carriage, Maya wished, that for just _one_ pitiful second of her pathetic mess of a life, that the stupid First Civilization would allow her to be _happy_.

 

Just once.

 

* * *

 

Connor was going to wear down the floor boards with the pacing he was doing. He arrived late afternoon to the Safe house, only to be told by Duncan that Maya left with William to go to a party Israel Putnam was holding for the Sons of Liberty and others that were high within Boston’s society. Instead of going about any sort of business, Connor opted to wait. And, he was beginning to regret it. Darkness had begun to cover Boston, and the city already shut down with the occasional Taverns open. Yet, Maya and William were still not back.

 

He sat in a chair, clenching and unclenching his fists, wondering what could be taking the two so long. Different scenarios ran through his mind, none of which were any good. Perhaps she was in trouble? Perhaps she had been attacked on her way back to the safe house? And even worse, perhaps she and William were having _too_ wonderful of a time. His eyes glared at the floor at his feet, as the muscles in his face tightened.

 

Suddenly, Connor shot out of the chair, and began to pace again. So what, if she was with William, having a wonderful time? She had every right to do so. She was _not_ his to begin with. Connor halted abruptly as his eyes moved to the two boxes on the table that was specifically for her. He allowed himself to wonder, if she is _not_ his, would she be allowed to be his? Connor mentally shuffled through any possible reason as why she couldn’t be. Like him, she was an Assassin; he would not have to hide anything from her. They both seemed to have the same goals; protect those who cannot protect themselves. She felt comfortable enough to trust him, and he wanted to continue earning her trust. He wanted to continue knowing her, hearing her laugh, seeing her smile, and he wanted to be the one to eventually comfort her if she were to cry. But, she reminded him that although she was happy here, she did not _belong_ here.

 

Connor shook his head sharply at the thought; _no_. She _did_ belong here, whether she could see it or not. Why else would she feel as though she had a purpose here? Achilles told Connor their lives were intertwined together, and they had to figure it out--together. If Achilles, whom was one of the wisest men Connor knew, could see that they needed to travel the road set out before them _together_ , why couldn’t Maya see it? He flexed his tight fingers, and lifted his hand to rub his chin in thought. But what would come of them when Maya’s purpose as a host to the Shroud was complete? He could not bear the thought of seeing her heartbroken if they had to part. With a frown, Connor ran his hands down his face with a sigh of exasperation. Perhaps he could distance any kind of feelings he knew were beginning to develop; perhaps he was _confusing_ those supposed feelings with those of protectiveness. He needed to make sure that she was kept safe so she could do what she needed to do. What would happen afterwards will have to wait.

 

Finally, Connor walked towards the door, deciding he would let Maya be, but stopped as the door opened. His throat tightened, and he instinctively placed his hand over his heart that suddenly quickened its pace, when he came face to face with the woman he came to see.

 

_Maya_.

  

Her smile brightened as her golden colored eyes locked onto him. “Connor! What a surprise!” The genuine happiness in her voice was music to his ears.

 

The dark overcoat she wore over her brightly colored dress didn’t hide just how beautiful she must have looked at the gala that Israel Putnam held. Her raven colored hair was twisted up, which no doubt caused men to focus their attention on her beautiful face. _Speak, you fool,_ he scolded himself.

 

But the sight of the man that stood behind her with his hand on her shoulder caused the blood in his veins to boil. William never made it any secret what he thought of Maya, and Connor accepted when Maya explained it was just harmless compliments. However, William overstepped his boundary the minute his hand touched Maya. “Hello, Connor!” The Frenchman smiled at him.

 

Connor had to speak in order to stop his teeth from shattering. Finally, he swallowed his sudden rage, and only inclined his head at William. He watched as Maya turned to William, “Thank you, William. And we’ll move forward with our plans after we get what information we need.”

 

“Of course, Maya.” William took Maya’s hand, and lifted it to his mouth. A mouth Connor suddenly had the urge to plow his fist through. It took an even greater amount of strength to restrain from doing so when William placed a kiss onto Maya’s hand. “And, remember what I said.”

 

Maya gave William a nod, and bid the man good night. Finally, she turned to Connor with a smile that usually would have calmed any kind of anger Connor may have; but at the moment, it hurt him even more. “We weren’t expecting you for another few days.” She told him as she made her way toward the table, taking the gloves off of her hands. Maya turned to him, throwing out her arms in question. “Would you like some tea?”

  

Her nonchalance of William’s mouth on her hand only a few moments earlier caused something inside of Connor’s restraint to finally snap. “What took you so long?”

 

A dark brow rose at him when she flinched at the cold tone of his voice. “What?”

  

Connor stepped towards her. “I said, what took you so long? Do you realize what danger you could have put yourself in?”

 

“What is your problem? I was at a party at General Putnam’s home, and William accompanied me. I didn’t realize you were my _warden_.” Her chin lifted up in defiance, as she slammed her fists to her hips. “And I can take care of myself, Connor. I told you to drop the chivalry shit, remember?”

 

At least Maya’s temper and stubbornness was intact. “You do not understand, Maya!” He threw his hands into his hair in frustration, as he turned his back to her. “You are _special_!”

 

“Yeah, and William knows what I am, Connor. He knows what precautions to take in case things were to go wrong!” She shot back. “So, get off your high horse! You’re not the only experienced Assassin in existence, you know!”

 

Connor swung around to face her. He watched as she shook her head, and pressed her fingers to her eyes. “Connor, forget it, alright?” She finally told him. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

 

He stared at her, and swallowed harshly. She looked up at him, and wrapped her arms around herself. Finally, Connor placed his hands on his hips and tilted his head to the boxes on the table. “I brought your dress and hat.”

 

The cold expression on her face slowly softened and she gave a small smile. “Thank you.” She lifted a hand to the back of her neck, and rubbed. “I think I may have found a way into the Templars.” _Of course, it was now all business with her._ “But, I might need to go back to the old way of getting it.”

 

_The old way of getting it_.

  

In other words, she had to go back to what she would do to get information. A method she never wanted to do again, according to what she told him. And it was a method _he_ never wanted her to use again. If it was something she did _not_ want to do, someone else must have placed the need to, inside of her head. His fists clenched, as he narrowed his eyes at her. “Am I right to assume that _William_ dare place that into your mind?”

 

“No!” She quickly answered with a look of shock. “ _I_ placed it into my _own_ mind! If you only knew--”

 

Connor had heard enough. He refused to allow her to demean herself, or allow anyone else to, for that matter. He sliced his hand down, cutting her short, “ _No_!” He shouted. “I _will_ not allow that!”

 

“Connor, _listen_ to me--”

 

But before he could stop himself, a sudden, and surprising, irrationality came over him. “Are you ever going to _stop_ being what you were?”

 

One thing Connor knew about Maya, was that she _hated_ what she was and what she had done. It was the very thing that created the dark personality she had when they first met. And for him to remind her, Connor knew _he_ overstepped his bounds; especially when the golden hue in her eyes seemed to blaze the fury she now began to shake with. Why could Connor not keep his mouth closed? He sometimes told himself he was _too_ honest with people; but he did not _mean_ to remind her of her past to anger her. But, as Connor ducked quickly to avoid the vase that flew at his head with deadly accuracy, it was apparent that Maya did not see it that way. He held out his hands in surrender, as he stepped towards her, “Maya--,” But he was stopped short as another smaller vase sailed into the air at him, and he tilted his body to dodge it.

 

“How _dare_ you!” She screamed at him as she hurled the vase. “Get out, Connor!”

 

When he came too close, she lunged at him; but, the dress was too restraining for her to do any kind of fighting normally, along with the obvious anger she was feeling. Instead, one fist landed on his chest, and he reacted, grabbing her wrists to avoid any more pummeling from her. He wanted to calm her down so he could explain what he meant, that he only wanted her to realize that she would _never_ need to go back to being what she thought of herself; a _prostitute_ and a tool for the Assassins. But, when he restrained her, Maya reacted with any kind of vulnerable emotion the only way she knew how--through anger. She squirmed to get her wrists out of his grip, and screamed up at him. “ _Fuck_!” When she slammed her head back against the wall in frustration, her words tore through him. “Do you _enjoy_ reminding me, Connor? Is that what you _want_ me to be?”

 

Connor not only realized just how much he hurt her by reminding her of her past, but he also realized that he had her against the wall; and he was pressed against her as though he didn’t want her to get away. He suddenly became aware of the quickened breaths and the warmth he felt pressed against her. His gaze zoned onto her lips as she licked them before she continued to attempt to calm her own erratic breaths she took. When his gaze traveled up to her own, her eyes smoldered as she stared up at him. Her lips parted slightly, and he noticed the pace of her breaths quicken when he whispered the only words he could possibly get out, _Forgive me_.

 

When he dared to remove one hand from restraining her, he lifted his finger to her bottom lip. He heard her suck in a breath as he feathered the tip of his finger across her lower lip. He asked for her to forgive him, but, he was also asking whatever future that was ahead for forgiveness as well. Because, _Creator help him_ , Connor knew just what he was feeling. The tender touch he reveled in was stopped short as Maya’s hand wrapped around his, pushing it away from her. “Don’t _touch_ me, again.” She told him.

 

His eyes searched her face, looking for any emotion that was contrast to the coldness of her voice. But he was met with what he could only see as _regret_. Finally, after forcing himself to do so, Connor backed away from her, giving her the space she apparently wanted. He clenched his fists, and turned away to walk to the door. “You have a lot to learn about women, before you find that wife of yours, Connor.” She told him.

 

The reality stabbed him directly in the heart, and Connor swallowed it down as his hand hovered over the door knob. His mind tried to rationalize any reason as to _why_ he always felt as though he _belonged_ with her whenever she was near him. Nothing, other than the fact that she came from somewhere else in time to _heal what was wrong_ , came to mind. He could very well be what was _wrong_. The Brotherhood strengthened quickly than he could imagine since she had arrived. There was no doubt in his mind that he and Maya would make a perfect team to lead the Assassins as well. Achilles believed in that; Connor now believed it--but he would _not_ force Maya to. But, he hoped he was right. For the sake of the lives at stake in Maya’s time, he hoped he was right. He decided to leave her with the only words he could, “I know all I need to know.”

 

And with that, he opened the door, and left her alone.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter; please don't forget to leave a comment, kudos, and bookmark it. I'll always have Connor in my heart. He was such a wonderful character, and deserved so much more than what he'd gotten.


	17. XVII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maya goes through with her plan, in spite of Connor’s refusal to allow her to. As the war rages on, her plan goes awry.

  
This was getting out of hand.

  
Maya touched her fingers to her bottom lip, where Connor’s fingers were only moments before. Swallowing the dry lump in her throat, Maya knew she had done the right thing by telling Connor to back off. It was either that, or let it move further until either one couldn’t take it anymore. It was best for both of them; but she couldn’t forget the sudden look of hurt in his eyes when she told him not to touch her. She wished Connor would come back and let her apologize for everything. The two boxes that Connor had personally brought for her still sat atop the table, and when she turned her head to stare at them, Maya realized just why he brought them. The fact that he did bring them, and in turn, lost his mind when she told him that she might have to go back to her old ways, opened Maya’s eyes and quickly slammed her back into the real world.  
She wasn’t stupid--he was becoming attached.

  
And, she was falling in love.

  
She glanced down at the scattered pieces of the two vases she hurled at him. As she knelt down to begin cleaning up the mess she made, Maya felt something that she believed to be gone. Her hands shook as her vision began to blur and the pieces clanked together as she swept them into a pile with her hands. They turned into pieces of her now broken life; that she had thrown at the one man who attempted to help her repair it. Maya felt her chin begin to tremble uncontrollably, and the lump that developed in her throat began to hurt when she attempted to swallow it down. As the tears that blurred her vision began to stream down her cheeks, Maya opened her mouth, and sat back as she let out a sob. She dropped the pieces that were in her hands, and covered her face as the sobs began to force their way out of her mouth.

 

Maya Hotu couldn’t remember the last time she cried. The pain she experienced through her life had always been physical. She could handle strikes against her; she had endured torture at the hands of a man she sympathized; she was taught to shut off any remorse and placed any failure upon her own shoulders to bear. But, she couldn’t seem to endure the pain in her chest as she felt her heart break with each sob that came out. Hurting a man seemed easier for Maya when she was forced to kill him. Connor was different; but, she might as well have taken a blade and shoved it into his heart and in turn, shoved it into her own. He had shown that he cared about her. But, Maya knew that in order to stop him from becoming too attached, and to stop her own self from handing over the heart she guarded so fiercely in order to avoid catastrophic consequences, she had to hurt him. When the compassion and fire that burned in his eyes extinguished the moment she told him never to touch her again, she knew she’d succeeded. As she began to pick up the broken pieces of the vases on the floor, she knew it was now time to pick up the same broken pieces of her life. It was time to keep moving forward. However, Maya couldn’t shake the pain that threatened to overwhelm her--the thought of whether or not she may have made the biggest mistake of her life.

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
“Your sister?”

  
Caleb pushed himself away from the wall he leaned against, as he dropped his arms to his sides. Maya told the others she was planning to exploit Thomas Hickey’s insatiable appetite for women; but when she described a red headed young beauty that accompanied the two Templars to the party at Israel Putnam’s estate, Fillan shot out of his seat, and told them the woman might be his estranged sister. When Fillan nodded his head at Caleb’s question, the young Assassin’s eyes turned to ice as he recalled why he despised his sibling so much. “She had our parents killed, and she tried to kill me--twice! When she got wrapped up with Thomas Hickey, he flashed money at her, and decided to,” He paused, and swallowed harshly as though he was trying to tread carefully with his choice of words. “She decided to whore herself for them in exchange for money.”

 

Interesting. Maya sat back in her chair, and her brow furrowed in thought. Connor already sailed for Philadelphia without as much as a goodbye to Maya. She couldn’t blame him; not after the way she treated him the night before. But she had to keep moving forward; and one way she could do that was to continue with her plans. However, it seemed as though they’ve come across a road block--Fillan’s sister, Gillian, sounded very much like a Courtesan, Templar-Style. Maya had a feeling that Gillian would be able to see right through her, and could end up walking into a trap. “There has to be another way.” She muttered.

 

“Maya, don’t underestimate my sister. She’s not stupid. What I have seen and heard about Hickey is that he has a tendency to slip up and the Templars end up coming to his rescue.” Fillan placed his hands on the table, and stared at Maya. “Gillian hanging around Hickey is probably a way to get him from doing any more mishaps.”

 

The gears in Maya’s mind began to turn, and she grabbed her cup of tea, and looked up at the Assassins that stood around her; all except for William, Emily, and Stephane--who decided to accompany Connor to Philadelphia. “Duncan, can you speak with the inn keeper of the Green Dragon?” She asked.

 

When the Priest turned Assassin crossed his arms over his chest, and tilted his head at her question, he frowned with concern. “Maya, that place is too dangerous for us, most of all you. The city is currently under siege by the Redcoats, and the Templars will swarm their meeting place to plan their moves within both sides.”

 

Maya lifted her hand to calm her friend. “It’ll be too chaotic for them to really concentrate on whether or not Hickey’s going to stick his prick into some willing whore.” She paused, cursing herself for what she was going to do in order to help the Brotherhood. “It’s time we act, gentlemen. Duncan, talk with the inn keeper, and tell him he will be receiving an extra barmaid. The rest of you, assist General Putnam any way you can, help with the evacuation of citizens, and debrief Connor when he returns.” Maya’s placed the rim of her teacup to her lips and her eyes moved up to look at Duncan. “I’m going to see what I can pry out of Hickey.”

 

“What about my sister? She’s bound to be there.”

  
Maya gave Fillan a shrug of her shoulders. Fillan constantly looked over his shoulder due to his traitorous sister. Just a few months prior, she attempted to kill Fillan with a sharp hand held hook. The thought of someone, especially a Templar, hurting another of her team, began to slowly--and painfully--ice over her heart. The dark, unremorseful part of Maya’s soul had begun to seep through as she glared at Fillan.

 

“Her time with the Templars is now at an end, Fillan.” Maya’s cold tone caused Fillan’s lips to slightly upturn in gratitude. His sister would no longer threaten him--ever again. “It’s time the Assassins reiterate the message to her.”

 

* * *

 

 

The tavern was extremely crowded, just as Maya suspected. Barmaids rushed around attempting to fill the orders of men who took shelter, while other patrons desperately planned for a way out of the city. Also going as planned, Maya helped the desperate owner of the Green Dragon, and moved through trying to fulfill orders of ale, food, and rooms. But, there was one patron she was already keeping tabs on--Thomas Hickey.

 

He sat at a table on the second floor, near the rooms, drowning himself in ale. Thomas proudly announced to the few men who sat around him of the money he was standing to make after the siege was over. Maya’s eyes scanned the tavern for the woman described as Gillian MacCarthy. To her surprise, Gillian was a no-show. Before she lost her chance, Maya decided to make her move. As she took one step after another up the stairs towards the second floor, Maya swallowed the bile threatening to rise in her throat. Not only was Thomas Hickey a loud, vulgar, disgusting man who smelt as though he evaded a bath for a year, but it also disgusted Maya to think that anyone’s hands, except for Connor’s, would be on her body.

  
_No. Not now._

  
Maya shook her head sharply before she reached the second floor, and tried to justify her plan by telling herself that it was all for the cause--for the Brotherhood. Out of desperation. It was a desperate move she didn’t want to perform, but with the war going on, it became more difficult for the Assassins to pin-point where the Templars would strike next. They successfully infiltrated both the Redcoats and Patriots. A deadly game of chess that Maya was willing to risk playing.

 

She ensured the perfume was just right; the dress was light enough to maneuver in, and that the neckline was low enough to show the cleavage that Thomas loved to look at. Men had propositioned her already, which Maya gladly denied. Her ebony colored hair was loosely braided and draped over her shoulder, and her lightly tanned skin convinced the patrons that she was more than likely of Spanish heritage. When she finally reached the table, the men slowly quieted as she placed a hand onto the wooden surface. Thomas’ glazed eyes slowly moved from his mug, and moved upward to land on the skin that peeked out over the low square neckline of her dress. “Well, well, what have we here?” He smiled up at her.

 

Maya’s eyes moved from face to face of the men sitting around him; none were of those that were portrayed on the paintings that hung in the basement of the manor back at the Homestead. Which meant that either Thomas was alone, or he was surrounded by the lower totem pole of the Templars. She lifted a brow at Thomas, and lifted her free hand to drift her index finger over her flesh, “I was wondering if you gentlemen needed,” Her finger stopped and lingered at the neckline of her dress, keeping Thomas’ gaze locked with her actions. “Anything else?”

 

_Hook, line, and sink ‘er._

 

Thomas tilted his head at his guests, who took the message and left with their mugs. He gulped out of his mug, and slammed it onto the table before he stood. Maya ensured she kept her head in the game; it’s for the Brotherhood. Her eyes slowly moved up to lock gazes with him, as he walked into her. She lifted the side of her lips slightly, and hoped Thomas was too drunk to realize that he had seen her before. Thomas took the tray out of her hand, and placed it onto the table behind him. He turned to her, and Maya restrained from breaking his fingers that began to trail over her collarbone. “What other services are you offering, sweetheart?”

 

His accent was thick, but the effect of the ale was evident when he still slurred his words. She swallowed her pride, and looked up at him, before taking his finger, and flicking her tongue over the tip of it. She heard him slightly hiss at the thought of what else he could have her do like that, and she held his finger at her lips. Her half lidded gaze moved up to him, and he grinned as she answered him. “I’ll offer anything you want. You’ve been on my mind since I laid eyes on you.” Ugh. Maya dug deep within the self she buried, and put it forward, as she moved his hand down the crease of her breasts. She put her lips to his ear, and felt his shiver of anticipation. “You want your fingers to feel me?”

 

He unceremoniously grabbed her hips, and pulled her against him. Maya could feel just what part of him wanted to feel her. “I want everything to feel you.” Thomas told her.

 

Maya smiled, and gripped hem of his pants, and pulled him along with her into an empty room. When they stepped into the room, Maya turned to him, and began to untie the strings of her bodice. With each pull, Maya shut off what little of humanity she had within her.

 

But as Thomas turned his back to her to close his room door, what she didn’t see was the red headed woman that now stood at the table they left, watching with a smile as he closed the room door.

* * *

  
  
George Washington was now Commander of the Colonial Army. Connor’s run in with Charles Lee during the acceptance speech that Commander Washington gave caused his mood to sour even more. He still had Maya’s rejection hanging over him since it happened a few nights earlier. Tension between them escalated quickly, especially since he was able to get to know the light and compassionate Maya. The whole Brotherhood was now stronger than before, mainly because the two leaders got along, made the decisions together, or compromised on the ones they couldn’t agree on.

 

Now, as he stood in his cabin within the Aquila, sailing back towards Boston, Connor was left alone, with only his thoughts to keep him company. During the acceptance speech Washington gave in Philadelphia, Connor’s mind was a blur. He thought of nothing but his last meeting with Maya before he left Boston. When he slammed the door behind him to leave Maya alone when she requested it, Connor stood on the outside of the safe house, trying to decide whether or not to sleep in his cabin on the Aquila, or to walk off his frustration, and come back to sleep at the safe house. But when he heard the sobs come through the door, knowing they were from the woman he walked away from, his heart clenched painfully within his chest. He wanted to go back in and tell her to please forgive him; forgive his words that hurt her so badly, forgive how forward he was by touching her, and to forgive him for causing her sobs to come out.

  
However, Connor realized he couldn’t do it.

  
Maya’s rejection and reminder that she was not his had hurt. Connor was unfamiliar with the feeling, and couldn’t afford to make it worse. So, he decided to distance himself from her, and allow her to understand on her own terms, just has he did before. It was the best he could do without causing more pain to either of them. The next morning he set sail for Philadelphia with Stephane as company, to allow him to clear his mind and place his focus where it needed to be-- on the situation at hand. But his mind only set aflame with disgusting thoughts of what Maya attempted to tell him; the old way. Throughout the speech Washington gave, Connor’s leg bounced up and down anxiously as the thought of another man’s hands on Maya drifted in his mind; all because she felt it was absolutely necessary for the Brotherhood. When he heard Charles Lee’s voice behind him, he wanted to take the opportunity to satisfy the rage he felt rising within him by finally ending the man’s life, and hopefully have his own troubles done with.

 

But, Samuel Adams restrained Connor, introduced him to George Washington, and gave him the information he needed to continue back to Boston. Connor had a feeling that Samuel Adams knew just how anxious Connor was to get back. The city was under siege, the Assassins were in the middle of the mess, and Connor wanted to stop Maya from going through with her ridiculous plan. He wanted to help find another way that didn’t involve anyone touching the woman he wanted to keep safe. So when he heard that Israel Putnam would be able to assist him with reaching John Pitcairn, it came as some comfort to him. Connor knew General Putnam would plan with Maya to keep her busy evacuating civilians.

 

Connor shrugged into his Assassin robes, and he shook his head, scoffing at himself. There was no way he was going to lie to himself anymore. He allowed a smile to form on his lips when his mind drifted to the memory of her smile every time she had seen him. Her laughter was a soothing sound to his ears that drowned out the dark past of his own. Her presence around him brought nothing but comfort; because she not only was a part of the same life and the same cause, but she understood him. Connor became comfortable telling her of his own childhood, of his mother, and each aspect of his life that brought him to the Assassins. Her stubbornness infuriated him to no end at times, but it revealed just how passionate she was. She was a strong willed woman, who may have grown up in darkness, but she revealed a much happier side when she finally accepted being where she was. When she was not around him, Connor felt so empty and....lonely.

 

_I love her._

  
Connor shocked himself, and cleared his throat as he realized he spoke the words out loud. The feeling was strange to him, now that he identified it. But, it also felt as though it belonged there within him. What about when she leaves? The thought of her leaving him forever caused him to wince at the pain he felt in his chest suddenly, and he dug his fingers into his chest over his heart, hoping to relieve the pain. If they could never be together, why would he feel the way he did to begin with? He was a reasonable and realistic person; there was nothing that felt unreasonable or unrealistic about Maya staying with him. Connor could only be patient though, which was one quality he had a tendency to lack, and only hope that Maya would understand the same. It was a conversation to have with her when the time was right. For now, Connor Kenway, the fool in love, needed to be pushed back, so Connor Kenway, the Assassin could come forward. He turned to his cabin door when he heard a knock. Muffled sounds of cannon fire could be heard from outside the ship, and he knew they were approaching the city. “Yes?” Connor answered.

 

The door opened, and Stephane stepped in, “Connor, you might want to take a look at this.”

  
Frowning, Connor followed Stephane onto the deck, and took in the reality of just what was happening to the city. Buildings burned, leaving pillars of smoke floating into the air, while ships fired their cannons into the city as well as towards what Connor could only guess to be Bunker Hill. He could hear the screams of the civilians caught in the crossfire, and the muffled sounds of musket fire from the battle at Bunker Hill occasionally pierced through the sounds of Soldiers fighting and dying on the battlefield. “Mister Faulkner, we’ll dock away from this, and go through the forest to Bunker Hill.” Connor commanded as he turned to the wheel.

 

“Aye, Captain.”

  
Connor had to find Israel Putnam; and then he would find the other Assassins to find out exactly what had been going on while he was away. The situation within the city siege escalated quickly, and he hoped that the Assassins were able to avoid the mess in front of him unscathed. But, Connor could not swallow the feeling that something was wrong--terribly wrong.

 

* * *

 

 

A deafening crash pierced through the silent darkness of unconsciousness, causing Maya to awaken with a start. However, she was not lying down in the room she last remembered being in. Instead, she was sitting upwards in a chair; and when she tried to move her arms, she realized they were restrained by the rope tied around her torso, and rope tied her ankles securely to the legs of the chair. _Oh fuck._

 

Her vision adjusted to the darkness of the cold room she sat in; there was only a candle that sat on a table near the door in front of her. The bracers that held her hidden blades around her wrists were gone. Maya was completely unarmed. She tried to quickly shuffle through her mind in an attempt to piece together just how she ended up tied to a chair in a completely different room than what she remembered.

 

With disgust, Maya mentally recalled when she lured Thomas Hickey into a room at the Green Dragon, trying to get him to talk about just who was going to pay him after the siege, and feed his pathetic ego, with merely a suggestion that she would screw his brains out. He proved to be particularly difficult, and was intent on feeding his lust before talking about anything; so Maya caved in, knowing that if she stopped and left suddenly, he would suspect her of something. The smell of his breath lingered in her mind as she remembered him pushing her face first against the wall; the sound of him quickly unbuttoning his trousers as he held her arms with his other hand caused the mental wounds of her past to rip open with a vengeance. Maya remembered the pain she had to endure from him as he forced himself into her; it was a physical pain that Maya learned to shut off at a moment’s notice.

 

And that’s when it happened; the Shroud activated itself. Maya closed her eyes, cursing at herself as she remembered the moment she felt the pain from Thomas; the sensation on her arms tingled, and continued to grow stronger the more she endured from him. When he was finally done, she was inexplicably exhausted, but she now pieced together as to why she was exhausted. The Shroud must have healed the injuries he was causing, which in turn drained her energy as well. Maya could only hope that the long sleeves of her dress covered the evidence of the Shroud well enough to make Thomas believe he was one hell of a screw. What Maya couldn’t figure out, was just how she ended up tied to a chair in the middle of some dark room?

  
  
Maya attempted to test the ropes that restrained her by shifting, but then froze when a woman’s voice came from the darkness behind her. “Easy there, lass.”

 

The click-clack of heels echoed within the room, and Maya’s eyes turned to the side as the sound came closer to her back. As the source of the sound came into view, rounding around Maya and coming to stand in front of her, Maya’s Holy Shit alarm rang wildly in her mind. It brought back too many memories; believing she had a grasp on her own target--only to be caught, and tortured. The only difference that somewhat comforted her for just a second, was that the others followed her orders by assisting the General; and not risking their own lives trying to help her. No; Maya could only hope that the battle and siege were keeping them busy enough to think she was still with Thomas Hickey. Because this was her own fault; Maya really messed up this time. And by the way Gillian MacCarthy smiled down at her; it was obvious the red headed beauty knew Maya was no simple whore. “All you need to do is sit quietly while John speaks with you. He’ll be here in a few moments.” Gillian’s smoky voice would have definitely had any man hooked within minutes. The woman bent forward, and leaned so close to Maya that the tip of the noses barely touched. “You are quite a beautiful sight,” Maya cringed when Gillian’s gloved finger drifted down her cheek, “It will be a shame when John commands me to ensure you will no longer be a problem.”

 

Maya narrowed her eyes, and glared at Gillian who smiled as she gave her a wink. As Gillian stood upright with a laugh when the door finally opened behind her, Maya tried to think of a way to get herself out of her current troubling situation. She sat in silence as a familiar man walked into the room, looking at her with awe, and....recognition. John Pitcairn gazed at Maya, and walked slowly towards her. “I cannot believe it.” His voice was barely a whisper.

 

Raising a brow in confusion at John’s reaction to her, Maya finally spoke up. “What?”

  
John didn’t answer her. He only stared at Maya as he turned his head slightly to Gillian, addressing her. “You took the blades?”

  
  
Gillian placed Maya’s bracers into John’s outstretched hand. He studied the leather and the designs that were branded into the bracers. “Would you like for me to send for Haytham?” Gillian asked him.

 

John watched Maya in silence for a few moments, and finally shook his head, gesturing towards the two large brutes that stood outside the open door. “Not yet. I have a few questions for her, but we need to move to my encampment on Moulton Hill.”

 

Maya’s heart raced; if they were going to Moulton Hill, that meant Israel Putnam would be right on the opposite side, fighting back. It would give her a chance to escape, and assassinate Pitcairn, and while she was at it, end the life of Gillian MacCarthy as well.

 

* * *

 

 

Fillan had to hurry. He dodged the shrapnel and blasts created by the cannon balls that flew into the city. His legs burned as he pushed through the battle torn streets towards the man who could help him. Israel Putnam would be at Bunker Hill, giving his soldiers the orders to finally push out Pitcairn, now that Connor and the other Assassins had blown up the reserves on the ships that continued to fire into the city. When Connor arrived back from Philadelphia, they were hesitant to tell him exactly what Maya was doing; they hadn’t heard from her since the day before, and tried to have the confidence in her to know that she would be able to come through her own mission successfully.

 

Connor was infuriated at Maya’s choice of going through with her own plans, but there was the matter of the ships firing their cannons that needed to be handled in order to move into the city at all. Fillan was instructed by Connor to stay put; but something didn’t feel right. He took it upon himself to investigate and check out the Green Dragon himself for any sign of Maya or even Thomas Hickey. But when he arrived, he overheard a conversation from a few of the bar patrons about Thomas Hickey and his apparent tryst with two women the night before; a beautiful red head and a barmaid that one of those very patrons wanted for himself that night.

  
Fillan knew Maya was in serious danger, and needed to find help. He would never forgive himself, if his own sister had something to do with causing harm, or even worse, to the woman who looked after him and treated him the way a sister should treat their younger brother.

 

The sudden fear gave Fillan the fuel he needed to push forward as he reached the encampment on Bunker Hill, and pushed past the guard post. He ignored their cries to get him to halt as he ran towards the very man that could help him. He nearly passed out from exhaustion when he finally reached Connor and General Putnam, who were discussing their next move while looking over the battlefield in front of them. Connor turned to him, frowning at the state of panic that Fillan was in. “What is wrong?” Connor asked him.

 

Through the breaths that Fillan was frantically attempting to catch, he could only exhale words, and hoped that Connor would understand what he was trying to say. “Maya...” Fillan sucked in a breath, “Missing...” He sucked in another breath, and was almost afraid to continue when he saw Connor’s eyes darken with what Fillan could only guess was rage. Connor stepped toward him, towering over the younger Assassin, and waved his hand to urge Fillan to continue. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw General Putnam narrow his own eyes at Fillan, while slowly removing the cigar from his mouth. “She’s missing.” He finally got out.

 

The saying, _Don’t Shoot the Messenger_ soared through Fillan’s mind when Connor let it sink in. He gulped nervously as Connor’s lip lifted in a sneer. “Missing?” Connor’s voice resembled a growl that scared Fillan. “What do you mean, missing?”

  
The younger Assassin was now at the point of no return. Finally, he explained to Connor that he decided to check for any sign of Maya at the Green Dragon. Fillan told the two men that Maya did apparently leave the tavern with Thomas Hickey and a woman that he suspected was his own sister, Gillian. “Did you find out where they went?” Connor asked.

 

Fillan shook his head. “My guess is that they took her to John Pitcairn in the city. Or that he will know where she’s at. They couldn’t have gone far. There’s too much going on in the city for them to escape.”

  
  
Connor turned, snatching the eyeglass out of General Putnam’s hand, and looked into it, across the battlefield yet again. “Why would Pitcairn have her?” Israel finally asked of the two Assassins.

 

Knowing Maya’s relationship with Israel Putnam, the conversation would not end well if either Connor or Fillan answered the General’s question. Finally, Connor slowly lowered the eyeglass, and turned to the General. “That’s what I will go and find out.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember to leave a comment :) If you could let me know your feelings on it so far, I’d greatly appreciate it! Thank you for the kudos and bookmarks!


	18. XVIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After realizing that Maya had been captured, Connor plans to kill two birds with one stone; find a way to rescue Maya while assassinating John Pitcairn. But, he has the dilemma of whether or not to confess his own feelings.

Maya was never fond of small, confined spaces. First, the cold and dark empty room she was held in; and now she sat in a jail carriage, her wrists shackled, and no way to get out. They transported her to the encampment within Moulton Hill, where Maya caught a glimpse of just how badly the battle was going. Her heart sank when she saw just how thin the Patriot forces were; their wounded and dead seemed to outnumber the living. Even the remainder seemed as though they were ready for defeat. All she could do was watch as the Redcoats’ firing lines pushed forward, and more continued to line behind them. Israel Putnam was across the battlefield from where she was; and Maya knew the man well enough to know that his pride was probably crushing under the foot of Pitcairn with each step his forces took.

 

The carriage came to an abrupt halt near the rear of the camp. Through the bars of her cell, Maya could still see the carnage of the battlefield ahead. She wrapped her hands around the bars, and her face fell as she witnessed yet another line of Patriots fall to the bullets coming from the Redcoats. _How could I have been so careless?_ Her throat dried and she attempted to swallow the emotion she was beginning to feel. She did not remember the infamous battle going _this_ badly when she learned of it during her lessons while growing up. But then again, Maya was not involved in the outcome at the time. For all she knew, Connor and the others may not get to Pitcairn in time to stop the massacre from getting worse.

 

She caught sight of Gillian riding her own horse towards Pitcairn. Maya could only watch as Pitcairn placed her bracers with her hidden blades into Gillian’s hands. But it was what her ears picked up on before Gillian rode out of the camp that peaked Maya’s curiosity when Pitcairn told the other woman,.. _The daughter of the woman who betrayed us years ago._ When the two spared her a glance, Maya sucked in a breath; why in the _hell_ would he refer to Maya as the daughter of some woman? In her mind, she remembered a line from a journal entry of Abigail Davenport: _I have gained the trust of John Pitcairn. He seems vulnerable enough to be comforted since the Templars have placed more responsibility on him._

_Woman...who...betrayed..._ Maya’s mind rang with alarms. The _only_ evidence of any woman that caused him to think they were betrayed to the Assassins would be Abigail Davenport. It was the first time _anyone_ had placed the thought of her mother within her mind in a long time--she abandoned thoughts and emotions regarding her mother’s disappearance long ago. She never knew her mother, never knew what her mother looked like; although those in her own time had occasionally told Maya she was almost a carbon copy of what they remembered of her mother.

 

Maya remembered meeting the Mentor Council in Dubai for the first time when she accepted her position as Courtesan; and she remembered the way a few stared at her. They all knew her mother, and her mother’s work within the Assassins. One had even told her he thought he was looking at _Ava_ , the name her mother preferred to go by. Now, Maya couldn’t shake the look that John Pitcairn had given her when he first laid eyes on her; it was the same look she’d received from others who knew her mother. When she opened her mouth to ask John what he meant, and to throw out an excuse to disprove what he assumed, he turned from her, ordering two large guards to watch her carriage. He rode towards the battlefield ahead of them before Maya could stop him.

 

All Maya could do now, was watch while Patriot soldiers were slaughtered by the Redcoats that were now outnumbering them. She rested her head against the bars, and cursed herself for her failure. This was all her own fault; she should have listened to Connor when he fought her decision to go through with the foolish plan of seducing Thomas Hickey. She should have remembered that the Shroud would not only look after her own injuries instead of allowing her to simply turn off her emotions and pain, but that it would also drain her energy for the use of it as well. She allowed herself to be screwed by a Templar, figuratively and literally, only to be captured, with no valuable information to give to Israel Putnam, all for what she believed to be

 

the best for the Brotherhood. Why in the world did she allow herself to go back to her old ways? She had no need to! Now, she was surely going to be executed by the Templars, or she would be killed if she were attempting to escape. She only hoped that her dear friend, Israel Putnam, would not lose hope in this battle, and that Connor would be able to pull off a miracle.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Israel Putnam _never_ wasted a cigar. But, Connor watched as the General threw his half smoked cigar to the ground, and turned to the battlefield. Caleb and Fillan now stood behind Connor, waiting for any orders. The other Assassins were ordered to pack what they could from the Safe House, and place it on the Aquila to take back to the Homestead. The city was too dangerous at the moment and needed a few more days to recover after the battle was over.

 

Connor knew it would be foolish to leave any of the Assassins at the safe house.

 

But now, Putnam turned back to him, glaring at him with accusation. After he found out that Maya took it upon herself to retrieve information from “associates” of John Pitcairn, the General spat vulgarities that until now, Connor believed only Maya knew. “God damn it! I told her to leave well enough alone! She doesn’t belong in _any_ of this!” Israel gestured to the carnage that scattered the battlefield.

 

Connor wanted to laugh at Putnam's statement; the General obviously didn’t know the same woman. Connor knew Maya well enough to know just how stubborn she was and how she _hated_ being told what to do. Israel looked through the spyglass to the opposite camp. “Well, Pitcairn’s definitely there. I can see what I think would be a jail cart, but I’m not sure. I wouldn’t doubt it if he had her.”

 

Connor wouldn’t doubt that either; it would make sense that Pitcairn didn’t keep Maya out of his sight, before taking her to the Templars. And by then, it would be _too_ late. “We can try to go around and get through the back of the camp.” Caleb suggested. “See what we can find and possibly take out Pitcairn at the same time?”

 

“Or you can wait for us to thin out the ranks. There’s no way you’ll be able to get through that maelstrom down there.” Israel pointed out.

 

Both had a point, but Connor needed to get to Pitcairn, and quickly, before the man slipped from his grasp, taking Maya with him. If Pitcairn were to escape with Maya, the Templars would see that she was a valuable piece of Eden, just as they saw Abigail Davenport. No; it was too risky to waste any more time. Connor took what Achilles told him very seriously; that Maya needed to survive to see through to what the Shroud needed for her to do. He swallowed harshly when he remembered what the death of Abigail did to the Old Man; if Maya met the same fate, Connor could only imagine doing what the Old Man did. Losing a woman of so much importance to the world; _his_ world, would feel as though he were lost with her. Also, he needed to ensure that he rids the Colonies of John Pitcairn. The brutality of Lexington and Concord that Connor and the other Assassins witnessed, and now what was going on in front of him reminded him of the need to. Finally, he cleared his throat. “There’s no time. I will have to chance a direct approach,” He looked at the General, who stared back at Connor with a look of disbelief at his plan. “Provide some cover fire while I go straight through.” He glanced at Caleb and Fillan, “Take to the wood line, and flank the rear. If you find Maya, take her straight to the Aquila. I will catch up.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“I see no other choice.” Connor answered the General.

 

Connor promised himself that he would ensure Maya _stayed_ at the Homestead. Where she was safe; and under his constant watch. She placed herself in a dire situation that greatly risked her own life. He was going to ensure that didn’t happen again. When Israel gave him a nod of agreement with the plan, Connor inclined his head to Caleb. The two other Assassins ran toward the wood line, and Connor stepped toward the battlefield below. The battlefield had quieted down giving the Redcoats the impression they were winning this battle. Redcoats marched to the sounds of drums toward the scattering Patriots.

 

Each step Connor took toward the battlefield, he felt the pull to the opposite side growing stronger. It was a pull he was already familiar with; he _knew_ Maya was on the other side, waiting for him. It was the same pull at his heart he felt whenever he saw her, or whenever she was near. One that created a strange emptiness when they were apart. The men around him became a blur as his gaze focused to the horse that another soldier had trouble controlling. His vision honed onto the horse, which began wildly neighing, and rearing back, as if it knew Connor needed its assistance. When Connor’s hand gently fell onto the horse’s snout, it calmed enough for him to swing into the saddle on its back. Grabbing the reins, Connor turned the horse and jumped it over the barricade, and raced onto the battlefield past the retreating wounded, and toward the firing line that waited for the officer to give his command. That was a great disadvantage that the Redcoats refused to give up; to where the Patriots were learning and practicing to fire at will, the British instead decided to keep to the tradition, positioning in unison, firing on command, and frantically reloading; in unison.

 

But as Connor rode towards the line, he felt a change to his senses that nearly overwhelmed him. All other noise around him grew quiet, except for the officer’s voice commanding the firing line. His heartbeat drowned out the _pops_ that came from the muskets of the Redcoats, and he turned the horse to the side, so he could leap off of the beast. The firing line positioned again as Connor threw himself behind a small log placed as a barricade, dodging the bullets that fired at him. He was so close already; it would be easier for him now to complete the journey on foot. Whether or not the covering fire was provided already, Connor did not know; nor did he pay attention to wonder if Putnam had done it or not. When the firing line attempted to prepare again, Connor took the opportunity to continue.

 

His legs should have burned with near exhaustion as he ran towards the Redcoats. But he felt weightless; and as his eyes took in each of the panicked faces of the enemy while they frantically tried to reload their muskets, Connor allowed his instinct to take over him completely. He caught sight of the one he was on the hunt for; John Pitcairn, who was sitting on his horse near the rear of the camp. And Connor knew Maya was close by. He was going to get Maya back safely; and John Pitcairn was a dead man for taking her.

 

* * *

 

Maya couldn’t stand the sight of the soldiers falling any longer, and the silencing gunfire told her that things were dire. But the sound of gunfire erupted again, erratically, and men--from the Redcoat side of things--were yelling out in panic. Soon, gunfire was erupting again, from a distance, and Maya stood in the jail carriage, at the distant sound of yelling coming towards their side of the hill, amidst the cannon fire coming into the camp from across the battlefield. With a burst of hope, Maya turned to look towards the chaos that now broke out. Men from the Patriots ran into the battle, with renewed morale, waving their flags, and shooting their muskets at the now scattering Redcoats. They were no longer retreating; they were running towards the fight; and around her carriage, the Redcoats were running out to meet them. But, something was not right; Maya could not smile at the hope she felt. And when the two guards that were conflicted as to whether or not run out to help their comrades slumped to the ground with an arrow in each head, she feared that the _miracle_ she hoped Connor would perform would be a foolish one; and it would be her fault.

 

The ground erupted from the impact of cannon fire, scattering bodies of British troops, and she heard a familiar voice outside of the jail she was in. “Maya?”

 

“Caleb! Fillan!”

 

Her two colleagues rushed to the door, and Maya grabbed onto the bars, relieved at the sight of them. Fillan grabbed her hand, and squeezed it gently and quickly, reassuring her. “Hang on; we’ll get you out of there.” Caleb bent down, searching the pockets of the dead guards.

 

Maya’s eyes glanced sideways towards the battle going on, and her heart came to a painful stop at what she saw. The white blur slowed, and Maya watched with a mixture of fear and awe, as Connor turned, parrying with his tomahawk in one hand, and moving fluidly using his hidden blade with the other to tear straight through the redcoats; making a bee line for John Pitcairn. Behind him, the Patriots ran for the enemy, and miraculously, the stray bullets and cannon balls landed everywhere on the battlefield _around_ him. Connor didn’t stop; and as more soldiers fell around him, Maya panicked. She had to do something; she could never live with herself... _ever_ again, if he were to fall in front of her. “What the-- _god damn it_!” She exclaimed, gripping the bars and shaking them in frustration, feeling like a wild animal that wanted out of its cage. “Get me _out_ of here!”

 

“Found the key!” Caleb shoved it into the lock, and opened the door.

 

The door couldn’t get open fast enough. Maya nearly flew out of the carriage, and into Caleb’s arms. She had the shackles on her wrists still, but she didn’t care at that point. An overwhelming urge to help and protect anything from happening to the man who was seamlessly tearing down Redcoats overcame her sense of reason. But, she felt restrained-- _again_. “Caleb, let me _go_!” She demanded.

 

Caleb turned her to him, and shook her slightly. “Maya, _stop_!”

 

But none of his words were getting through to her. Suddenly, time seemed to stop, as Connor stood amidst the mess he created. Patriots were creating enough of a distraction for him to make his move. But, before he did, his gaze found Maya’s. Caleb’s arm was still restraining her from moving, and Maya realized that she would only create disaster if she were to go to him. What seemed to be longer than just the split second it took, Maya watched as Connor continued to run through the opening that was created for him. Caleb and Fillan pulled on Maya, urging her to go with t hem. “Come on, we have to get to the Aquila!” Fillan told her.

 

Reluctantly, Maya turned, and followed the two Assassins. She said a silent prayer, for Connor to come out of the situation unharmed. Before she finally turned away and ran, the last sight of Connor leaping over the Redcoats, and shooting the arrow that took John Pitcairn off of his horse, gave her somewhat of a sense of relief. Connor really _was_ the Assassin she grew up admiring. However with the reality of possibly losing him forever, Maya began to understand that she owed Connor a _huge_ apology. She had failed; and it nearly cost her _everything_.

 

* * *

 

Connor was exhausted; he wanted to drop face first to the floor at his feet, and rest. He forced himself to continue, when he finally stepped up to the wheel of the Aquila. The Assassins packed up what they could from the Boston safe house, and Maya was now on board the ship as well. Connor had been successful in killing John Pitcairn, but in doing so, he uncovered yet a bigger problem. He found a letter that was revealing a plot the Templars had to assassinate George Washington. Before he made his way to the Aquila, he had revealed the letter to Israel Putnam, and told the General that Maya was safe. He reassured Israel that he would find who was trying to assassinate Washington and would be in contact with him once they regrouped at the Homestead.

 

The crew, to include Robert Faulkner, was surprisingly; yet gratefully quiet, except for the random commands called out. Connor’s gaze went from the waters ahead to the steps that led to the deck below, as Maya stepped out onto the deck, and walked toward the bow of the ship.

 

He was hesitant at first, but when he saw how her shoulders slumped in defeat when she grabbed onto the railing to look over into the water below, Connor knew he needed to talk with her. After he asked Robert to assume the wheel, Connor made his way down the steps, and across the deck towards her. “If you’re here to tell me just how much I screwed up, don’t bother.”

 

Maya’s defeated tone in her voice when she spoke pulled at him. She hadn’t moved, and wouldn’t look at him. Even as he leaned his elbow onto the rail, to see more of her face, she turned her head away from him. “Maya--,” Connor softened the tone of his voice in order to reassure that she was not to blame herself.

 

But she didn’t see it that way. “Connor, just stop, please.”

 

Before it turned into just another argument between them, Connor boldly placed his hand on her shoulder. To his surprise, she stiffened, but then relaxed; she hadn’t rejected it. “I must speak with you.” He told her.

 

Finally, she turned her head to look at him. He suddenly had gone completely blank--he had _no_ idea what he wanted to say. Her eyes were looking up at him with such a look of defeat, guilt, and...something Connor couldn’t identify, that it tore through him. He tilted his head back towards the area where his cabin was. “You need rest. You may spend what time you need alone in my cabin while we sail back to the Homestead.” He offered.

 

For a moment, Maya looked back at the cabin door, and Connor thought she would reject the idea. But, the woman surprised him again, and finally answered him with a nod of her head. He allowed a small smile form, as he held out his arm, allowing her to go first toward his cabin door. Maya walked towards his cabin, and he followed, forcing himself to ignore the stares he could feel from the crew. It was obvious that they were going to tease with accusations later, but Connor had to remind himself that although now was the inappropriate time, his own crew would never mean any sort of disrespect towards him or the woman he followed. Once they were inside of his cabin, Maya stood in the middle of the large room, with her back to him. “You may sleep in the bed. Please call for me if you need anything, Maya.”

 

Connor was going to leave her alone out of respect and to allow her to rest. But, he stopped when she finally spoke. “I owe you an apology.”

 

She turned to him, crossing her arms and hugging herself. Connor swallowed harshly, and resisted the urge to tell her that she owed him _nothing_. For the first time since his mother was killed, Connor was truly scared; he was scared with the thought that something horrible could have happened to the woman that now stood in front of him. _He_ wanted to apologize for hurting her with his words in the first place. He wondered that if he hadn’t, would he have been able to talk her out of going through with what she planned. All he could do at the moment was just shake his head in response.

 

Holding up her hand, Maya took a step toward him, but stopped herself from moving further. “I failed, Connor. I was careless; and because of my actions, I could have gotten myself killed. You wouldn’t have had to risk your life going after Pitcairn the way you did.”

 

Connor’s jaw tightened, as he remembered just _why_ he plowed through and risked his life. Did she not see that he could have waited for Israel Putnam’s forces to thin out the British forces instead if he was strictly after _Pitcairn_? He shook his head, and rubbed his chin nervously, as he boldly closed the distance between them, feeling that same pull he felt when he rode out onto the battlefield earlier. Connor already told himself he would no longer lie to himself about his growing...feelings for Maya. She didn’t step back, but she moved her gaze to the floor at her feet. He had to ball his hands into fists in order to avoid touching her. “Maya, why on earth would you believe that I would ever risk my life for a man like Pitcairn?” He asked her.

 

To his relief, she didn’t lash out at him; instead, she looked up at him, her amber colored eyes searching his face. He watched as she bit onto her bottom lip in thought. By the Creator, he wanted so badly to cover her lips with his own; he wanted to tell her just how he felt, that the thought of losing her was more than his logical mind could take, and caused him to act on impulse; he wanted to tell her that she _belonged_ here, in _this_ time, with him. But he couldn’t bring himself to say _any_ of those things. Not when he wasn’t certain that she would return the feelings back to him. He remembered as he fought through the redcoats to get to her; the thought of losing her forever drove him further than he’d ever been in the past. Connor couldn’t remember anytime he felt so focused and determined on a specific goal in his life. Of course, he tried to save his own mother, but he was but a child. Was this what being in love with someone felt like?

 

Finally, he saw Maya swallow hard, and she cleared the hoarseness out of her voice before speaking. “Why-,” She paused a moment, and then rose a brow at him, “Why would you do it then?”

 

Inhaling deeply, Connor placed his hands onto his hips. This time, it was his turn to look at the ground at his feet. He could feel her stare, and knew she _wanted_ an answer; she _needed_ one. “Get some rest,” and Connor turned, and walked towards the door of his cabin. But, before he left, he turned to look at her, and saw that she hadn’t moved, and was still staring at him, looking for an answer. Reaching for the courage he _thought_ he always had, he finally blurt out before he stopped himself. “I did it for you, Maya.” _There_. “I risked my life for _you_.”

 

Wanting to avoid showing any kind of humiliation, whether it be from himself, or from rejecting words from Maya, he hurried and opened the door, and left her alone in the cabin. He realized his heart had begun pounding in his chest, and Connor took deep breaths trying to calm himself. Running his hands down his face in exhaustion, he hoped she finally got the message; now, it was up to her to decide where to go next. Connor just had to prepare himself; in case she refused what he felt in his heart was right. Because if she did refuse, Connor would only have to respect her decision.

 

Hopefully, she now knew what Connor felt for her.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your continued reading and kudos :) Please feel free to leave a review and let me know what you think of this so far!


	19. XVIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maya contemplates Connor's confession, but, an event happens that opens her eyes to her real identity and where she comes from.

_“I risked my life for_ you _...”_

_  
_

The words rang through Maya’s thoughts ever since the moment Connor said them to her. When he stepped out of the cabin, leaving her alone, the guilt slammed into her once again. During the rest of the trip back to the Homestead, Maya only sat on the edge of the bed in Connor’s cabin, staring blankly at the door he walked out of. Another person had cared enough for her to come to her rescue after she screwed up. Visions of her team that had sacrificed themselves to do the same during her own time flitted through her mind, playing the horrifying scenes and sounds like a movie. The memory of her team bursting through the door of the hotel room she was in, while she was receiving the ass kicking of her life at the hands of the men who worked for the target she was to assassinate came back with a vengeance. Each of her team were slaughtered, while she helplessly watched, lying on the ground, barely alive. The last one to fall, Paul who was of the Mercenary faction of the Assassins, looked up at her, his look of failure on his own face before the fatal gunshot to his head ended his life.

 

Each of them had cared about her; she became attached to them, working closely with them for years, and backed her up whenever she needed them. They were the closest thing she had to _friends_ back in her own time. Now, each of the Brotherhood had sworn allegiance to the cause, and they all became important to Maya; she would _die_ for them. She never expected such loyalty from anyone, let alone the Assassins she now tried to distance herself from. The pain she experienced was too great to deal with yet again; and history had a funny way of repeating itself. She failed, and the Assassins fought to get her back. Worst of all, Connor risked his life and though he ripped through the Redcoats as though they were merely _flies in the way_ , she still feared for him. She couldn’t lose him; the world couldn’t lose him. He was too important; to the Assassins, and to _her_.

 

She exhaled a breath of relief as she sank down into the warm water within the bath tub in her room. It was exactly what she needed; as the water relaxed her tight and exhausted muscles, the accusation from John Pitcairn suddenly came to mind. Maya knew she needed to talk with Achilles in hopes that she could put her mind at ease and he would disprove what Pitcairn suspected. She opened her eyes, looking up to the ceiling, and mentally tried to piece together the puzzle; _was she Abigail’s daughter?_

She did not read the second journal Achilles had given to her just yet, but it was packed within her belongings, waiting for her to go through it. Achilles did say Abigail was also a host of the Shroud; Maya knew for a fact through experience, that the Shroud of Turin was the most complicated Piece of Eden, and was capable of _anything_. But she couldn’t understand why the Shroud would bring her mother _here_ of all places, and do the same with her. Not only did she need to read through the journal that Achilles said she would get _answers_ from, but she had to talk with the man married to Abigail as well. Hopefully, she would have answers to the questions that plagued her; who _was_ her mother, why was she here, and most importantly, was it right for her to love the man who risked his life for her?

 

Maya quickly washed the dirt of the past few days off of her. While she was at it, she frantically scrubbed off the dirt she allowed such a disgusting excuse of a man to put on her. Not only did she regret going back to her old ways of gathering information because it nearly cost her life, but she regretted the fact that Connor would find out; and she was not looking forward to the hurt he may experience when he did. When she was finally finished, she stepped out, dried herself off, and began to dress in the trousers and blouse on her bed. Once Maya bent down to lace up her boots, she frowned when the sleeves of her blouse rode up, exposing her tattoos.

 

_Something’s changed._

_  
_

The tattoos that adorned her arms darkened, from the slightly faded tanned symbols to a now darker brown color, showing even more against the tanned color of her skin. However, in the past, when she arrived to Boston and helped stabilize the Brotherhood so they could control their own districts, the symbols darkened from the original light lines to the somewhat tanned tattoos she was used to seeing; and she had a dream from Minerva explaining more of what she needed to know about the artifact she now hosted. She had no such dream for this new change that she caused. As if on cue to answer her, the burning pain crawling up her arms, and weaving into her body caused her to stiffen. She slammed her eyes shut, and as the pain wove down her legs, she fell to her knees with a grunt, clenching her fists in an attempt to shut the pain off. But, to her dismay, the agonizing pain wove throughout her body, forcing her to slam her hands to the ground.

 

_Open your eyes; you are ready to see._

_  
_

Minerva’s voice echoed throughout the room, compelling her to open her eyes. However, when her eyes opened, she was no longer within her room in the manor. The darkness that surrounded her, with the golden glyphs that were similar to those that adorned her arms floating around her, told her just _where_ she was at-- _The Nexus_.

 

A hologram appeared in front of her; one that was in the shape of a screen, playing a movie for her to witness. Maya could only watch, as the scene of a party played on the holographic screen in front of her. People within the scene were laughing, drinking, eating, all dressed in the clothing of the Roman Empire era. She watched as the focus was of a man surrounded by those who obviously adored him, with women around him placing dishes of food, and serving wine to those men who sat with him. It flashed suddenly to a woman’s hand placing a bowl of food in front of him, but Maya’s focus honed onto the emblem at the naval of the woman’s dress--the symbol of _Iltani_ , her own ancestor.

 

Before she could witness the man, who Maya now knew to be Alexander the Great, eat the poisoned food that would end his life, the scene dissolved, and another was created. Of a woman allowing a dark snake slither from her hand, and onto the mattress of a large bed in front of her. _Amunet_ ; the Assassin who used the asp to kill Cleopatra. The scene then faded, but before creating a new one, Minerva’s voice echoed as it spoke to Maya again, “ _To avoid shift within the balance, change must be made. Failure to do so will only cause the Nexus to recalculate so it may find a way to correct it again._ ”

 

The hologram then started up again, showing a woman, who looked very much like Maya, standing next to a younger, and lively Achilles. Maya watched as the two battled their way through a large group of men, but to Maya’s horror, the manor itself was in the background, and the homes that surrounded it were set aflame. With the fighting of others around the two, Maya knew what she was witnessing--the attack on the Homestead. She watched as Achilles turned to the woman, and heard his voice as he spoke, “ _Go, now, Abby!_ ”

 

_Abigail Davenport_.

 

A lump rose in Maya’s throat, as she watched the woman fight off a man, and shove her hidden blade into the man’s chest. _“No! I won’t leave you!”_ Abigail stubbornly yelled to Achilles.

 

The scene flitted to another; of the same woman, in _another_ time. Holding a small newborn. Her clothing and the modern day hospital room she was in gave a sinking feeling to Maya’s stomach. As tears threatened to burn her eyes, she watched as the exhausted woman gently placed her lips to the newborn’s forehead. _“My dear Maya....”_

Maya’s fingers clawed into the floor beneath her, as the scene changed yet again--but this time, Abigail Davenport was brutally beaten; dressed in what Maya could only tell to be the clothing of the time she herself was now in. A man’s voice, stern, and yet one of a gentleman, came from the darkness of the room Abigail was imprisoned in. The woman was tied to a chair, her hands behind her were restrained, and although she knew her fate was at an end, she continued to show her strength when she glared at the dark figure in front of her. “ _Abigail Davenport, I sentence you to death_...”

 

The horror finally sank into her. Maya closed her eyes, unable to see as the knife came to Abigail’s throat from behind her, to carry out the execution ordered on her. The bile rose in her throat as she tried to process the information she just witnessed. _“Failure caused the recalculation in order to bring one of Eve to repair the shift of power. If you are to stray from the course you have been placed on, this will be your fate. The Sanctuary must be guarded closely by both Adam and Eve in order to prevent premature access. You must bring us the one meant to open the temple and prevent what is to come.”_

Maya swallowed harshly, and cried out as the tattoos adorning her arms began to burn. The pain would not shut off when she willed her mind to do it. But, the truth had now been placed in front of her. Her question of her mother had been answered, the women whose lives the Shroud changed had been shown to her; they each put a stop to such powerful empires, but her mother _failed_. Her own mother failed and paid for it with her own life. Maya could only guess as to who had been the one to order the execution of Abigail Davenport; and the painful reality of it was too much for her to take. The tears began to stream down her cheeks, but she knew that seeking sympathy would be a futile attempt to any of the First Civilization. She _had_ to keep going. She would finish what her mother was unable to do, and since the only other human hybrid she knew that was of the people specifically charged to guard the temple was currently in the same house as she was, she now knew what she herself had to do. But whether or not she could bring herself to do it was a different matter entirely.

 

She now had a new drive to kill each of the Templars that were currently under the Assassins’ radar. When she painfully remembered seeing her mother hold her after she was born, and remembered her mother’s own death, Maya felt the walls that she built to withstand damned near everything thrown at her begin to crumble. And as it finally settled into her, Maya could only let out the anguish and sorrow that flooded through her with a cry of agony.

 

 

* * *

 

Connor couldn’t look at Achilles. The Old Man was glaring at him accusingly, after he informed him of what happened back in Boston. He told him of Maya’s plan that went awry while he was away; of how she was captured by the Templars, and of how he went about getting her back. He also informed Achilles of the plan he uncovered to assassinate George Washington. It was time for the Assassins to get involved within the war going on around them. Even though Connor never wanted to, he had no other choice. However, when Connor stared out the den window, he thought of the woman that was currently upstairs in her room, and what he felt for her. Connor could not; _would not_ ; be away from her again. After the fear he’d gone through from her imprisonment, Connor’s feelings for her solidified, and gave him a new drive and purpose.

 

He was in _love_ with Maya; and if she did not understand that from what he told her, _I did it for you, Maya_ ; then he would gather what courage he could find, and _tell_ her. He felt the need for her to know and understand why he had to keep her at the Homestead. Connor turned to Achilles, and cleared his throat, “I need to know one thing, if I may ask?”

 

When Achilles looked at him from the ledger he was writing into, Connor stepped towards him, and nervously folded his hands in front of him. “I want to know how you were able to live as an Assassin, and create a family.” He paused at Achilles’ sudden look of hurt at the mention of his now deceased family, but then pushed himself to continue. “Not just yourself, Achilles, but how did the others throughout the Assassins’ history go about doing so? How can one create a family and live two separate lives in order to ensure they are kept safe?”

 

After a moment of silent contemplation, the Old Man gestured to the chair on the other side of the desk, adjacent to him. “Sit down, Connor. There is something I need to talk with you about.” When Connor sat, Achilles placed the feathered pen back into the ink bottle and gave Connor his full attention. “Abigail was born into the Assassin order. She was,” Connor almost envied the smile Achilles had at the memory of his wife, “She was special. She was different.” The Old Man paused, and took in a deep breath as if to stop any sign of possible mourning to come out, “Abigail, like each of us, had a purpose in her life. She knew the truth, and knew she had to do what she was here to do. But, when we were not out hunting Templars, the joy she brought to my life, not only through the love we shared, but also through the son she bore for us, made _everything_ in our fight worthwhile. Each of the other Assassins that lived here within the Homestead shared that same joy of family. We all had something to live for; it kept us going, knowing we had to fight to secure the future we wanted for them. One of freedom, and peace in this new land. It is not forbidden to do so,” Achilles leaned back in his chair, and he gave a heavy sigh. “But, Abigail and I knew of the dangers, and at the time, it made it a little simpler for us to be able to not only work together, but to also know what to do to protect our son, and those around us that we considered to be our family. She knew your mother and father well.” He stopped when Connor’s attention piqued.

 

Connor placed his elbows on his knees, and leaned forward. Connor thought only John de la Tour and Achilles knew his mother when they helped her in guarding the temple on the land of his people. “In fact, your father was the reason she was brought here--”

 

Before Achilles could go on, a scream from upstairs abruptly ended their heart to heart conversation. Connor would have to continue the conversation later, but at the scream, he shot up out of his chair, and rushed out of the den. He heard another cry; one of agony, come from the room at was at the top of the stairs. Taking two steps at a time as he rushed up stairs, Connor feared the worst; the Templars sending someone to kill her, now that they probably knew of her. His heart raced as he pulled out his tomahawk, ready to fight whomever was in Maya’s room, and he grabbed the door handle with the other hand.

 

But, to his surprise, the door handle would not budge. He banged onto the wood, “Maya! Open the door!”

  

Fear flooded through him, and he decided not to wait, and began slamming his shoulder against the door. At the first few slams, the door wouldn’t budge. Finally, he backed up slightly to put more weight into it, and he rammed his body into the door, breaking it off of the hinges with a loud crash, and fell to his knees on the floor of her room. He looked up, and saw Maya, alone, on all fours. Her head was bent down, but Connor’s eyes zoned onto her tattoos that were exposed from the bottom of her sleeves as their... _glow_ dimmed, leaving behind an even darker shade of the tattoos that adorned her arms as proof of her body hosting the Shroud. Achilles stepped into the room, and Connor scrambled towards her, leaving his tomahawk on the ground.

 

As Connor moved his hands to her arms so he could gently help her to her feet, he flinched back as her head suddenly looked upwards. The golden hue of her eyes brightened, but then dimmed to her normal amber color. He reached for her when she closed her eyes again. Connor noticed the tears that flowed down her cheeks before she inclined her head. “Tell me it’s _not_ true, Achilles.” She sobbed.

  

_What?_

_  
_

Connor was hit with a sudden confusion; but Achilles stepped towards her, “Maya--”

  

Maya snapped, shooting up to her feet, causing Connor to flinch back in surprise. “ _Tell me_!” She screamed at him.

 

Her face tightened in rage but the tears streaming down her cheeks told Connor she was hurt beyond measure. He stood up slowly, between her and Achilles, hoping to stop Maya from acting irrationally when he saw her fists clench. She had no weapons, but she was deadly enough without them. Her focus was solely on the Old Man that couldn’t look at her. “Maya, what are you talking about?” Connor asked her.

 

“My _mother_ , Connor.” Her amber eyes flared, and the golden hue brightened to his astonishment. She glanced quickly at him, “He _knows_ my mother.”

 

Connor’s heart stopped, and he froze as he watched her step towards Achilles. “Abigail Davenport was _not_ her real name, was it?” Maya asked him.

 

Achilles swallowed and blinked up at her. After a moment of silence, he finally shook his head. “No, Maya.”

 

Maya’s body visibly shook with the rage she felt. Connor knew she was trying to restrain herself from lashing out at the Old Man. Finally she took in a deep breath, and exhaled, as her eyes narrowed to slits. “You _knew_ this whole time? My _mother_ is buried outside, and you never _told_ me?” She ground out.

  

“Maya, you _had_ to see for yourself. You would never have believed me if I said anything, and as time moved on, I began to know for sure that you _were_ in fact the child Abigail--” He stopped, and corrected the use of his wife’s name at Maya’s glare, “ _Ava_ , left behind. The answers were in the journal I had given you when you left for Boston. Somehow, she knew you would eventually be able to read them. Either now, or in your own time if you never came.”

 

Maya shook her head, and sliced her hand down, “No! Instead, I’m shown some damned vision of her. Of her _death_!”

 

Connor couldn’t believe what he was hearing. From their conversations together in the past, ones that Connor used to be able to get to know the woman in front of him, he knew Maya still dealt with the pain of the loss of her mother. Although she kept it buried as she was taught to, he knew it hurt when she spoke of how she wondered of her own mother. She wanted a woman in her life that would guide her; she _despised_ her own father. In many ways, Connor realized that they were very much alike. More than they could imagine. He remembered going through the pain of his own mother’s death, and how he coped. Now, Maya would have to mourn the loss of her own mother; and she would need someone to help her cope. “How _could_ you, Achilles? Where _were_ you?” Maya’s expression dropped, as her words came out in a sob.

 

Connor’s heart broke at the sound of her grief. Grief that he was suddenly able to feel in waves, that he knew was coming from her. And when he glanced at Achilles, he knew that the wounds not only sliced open within Maya, but it did for the Old Man as well. They both were now grieving the loss of one woman. A woman Maya wanted so badly to know, but now, she had to face the truth of her mother’s fate. He instinctively reached for her, but she glared at him, stepping back from him. “And _your father_ ordered her execution!” She sneered.

 

Yet another life his father had ruined. Connor blamed his father for his mother’s death; his mother’s death was orchestrated by Haytham, and now, he is told that the mother of the woman he now declared within himself that he loved was also at the hands of his father as well. He was relieved for a short moment when Maya didn’t look at him with hate; but he was pained when she instead looked at him with _hurt_. Before he could attempt to comfort her in _some_ way, she bolted. “Maya, wait!” He called out, as he followed her out of the room.

 

But she didn’t listen, or stop. When he followed her as she ran out of the back door of the manor, he stopped when she made it to the two tombstones that sat at the cliff side. His heart shattered as he watched her drop to her knees in front of the two tombstones of the two people that meant the world to his mentor; Abigail and Connor Davenport. Maya’s shoulders fell, but shook with the sobs that Connor’s keen hearing picked up on. A mournful sigh came at his side, and Connor saw Achilles stand next to him with his hand rested on his cane. They both watched Maya mourn at the burial sites of her mother and half-brother. “Why did you not tell her before?” Connor finally asked him.

 

The Old Man had plenty of chances to tell Maya who her mother was; she visited the Homestead many times, and had conversations with Achilles regarding the Brotherhood, or regarding her own life and how different it was now. Finally, Achilles glanced at Connor, before they turned to watch as Maya lifted a shaking hand to her mother’s tombstone. “She would _not_ have believed me. Abigail found out her own purpose because the Shroud had shown her. It was not my place to tell her. The artifact would have shown her when the time was right.” The two men looked at each other and Connor could see the evidence of the pain he also felt at the thought of his own wife’s death. “From what I’ve gathered from our conversations of her life, this was one wound that never healed. I wanted to tell her, Connor. But I could not.”

 

Connor’s eyes narrowed, “What will you have me do, Achilles?” He tried to keep the anguish out of his tone of voice. He felt Maya’s hurt and rage; and now her sense of vengeance. He knew _exactly_ what she was going through. “I cannot leave her to mourn. It wouldn’t feel,” Connor paused, as he swallowed harshly. “It wouldn’t feel right.”

 

Achilles remained silent, as he placed his hand on Connor’s arm. At the incline of his mentor’s head, Connor now knew what he _needed_ to do. He turned his head, and looked at Maya, as she traced her fingers along the engraving of her mother’s name. Inhaling deeply, and hoping that Maya wouldn’t lash out and hit him, he walked towards her. Each step Connor took, the sobs became louder as he drew near, and finally, he knelt to his knees at her side. Her walls that she used to protect herself chipped away as they began to learn to trust each other; now, they were in ruins. “I saw it, Connor.” She sobbed out to him. “I saw her death.”

 

He couldn’t control his muscles as his hand gently laid on her shoulder. “Maya, I am sorry.” When she shook her head, he moved his hand from her shoulder, and gently cupped her chin, urging her to look at him.

 

She allowed herself to look at him; and Connor’s heart sank and a lump built in his own throat, at her look of defeat. As tears continued to stream down her cheeks, his hand moved up, and his thumb rested gently on her cheek, wiping the tears that fell. As they gazed at each other, her eyes searched his face, as her chin trembled. Connor wanted to help her; he wanted her to smile; he wanted her to laugh again; he wanted to see the passion she had always shown when she educated and helped the others under her own command. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her. But, it was not the right time. She was mourning, and Connor knew his first step was to help her move past this, and turn her grief into strength. He released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, as he moved his other hand and placed it gently on her other cheek, holding her face to look at him. “I will help you, Maya.” He finally told her.

 

She blinked through her tears and her features softened as she gazed up at him. When she moved her hands, Connor was afraid that she would either strike him, or grab his hands, reminding him never to touch her again. But, instead, she surprised him, when she placed her hands onto his that held her face....and _left_ them there. “Thank you, Connor.” Her voice was hoarse from her crying.

 

Connor couldn’t stop himself; he moved his head toward hers, resting their foreheads together. “Let me help you.” He swallowed, restraining himself from capturing her lips with his own. Their breaths mingled and when he felt her hands gently squeeze his own that held her face she answered him with a short nod.

 

Now he knew that with this new information, things were different... _for the both of them_.

 

* * *

 

The darkness of night already enveloped the Homestead; but Maya continued to stare blankly at the water in front of her that flowed through the river near the Saw Mill. Gratefully, after her sobbing spell at the gravesite of her mother and half brother, Connor let Maya alone. But not until after he promised her he would help her. That wasn’t what had bothered her; it was _how_ he did it, which was possibly the most intimate moment she’d spent with anyone in her life. When their foreheads rested against each other, their eyes locked onto each other, his hands holding her face so gently, she wanted to let go and place her lips against his. But, she resisted; she didn’t want to do it out of the grief she felt. Her head was a mess after what she witnessed, and what Achilles only confirmed for her.

 

Connor informed her that he would be meeting with the others in the Brotherhood quarters regarding a letter he found on Pitcairn when he killed him. He reassured Maya that he would fill her in but told her to take some time to get herself together. Achilles stayed in his room the rest of the day; no doubt Maya reopened a wound for him. Her heart broke for the Old Man, but at the time, she only cared about her own grief. She never thought of the hurt Achilles had gone through after the death of Abigail--that name was hard to get used to when she thought of her mother--and her own half brother, Connor Davenport. She knew Achilles had given up on _living_ , until Connor came along, helping him rebuild the Brotherhood; and giving him a new hope that the Assassins could give to the new country as it was formed. Maya could only imagine the shock Achilles had when he realized Maya was the daughter of the woman he loved; the child that was left behind.

 

Maya leaned forward, letting her hand soak in the water that rushed past, allowing the cool sensation to soothe the memory of the pain she felt as her tattoos solidified traumatically on her skin. A smile formed on her lips as she remembered just how concerned Connor was for her while she mourned; now, she knew just _why_ she was drawn to him every time he was near. It was also the same reason as to why it hurt, emotionally and physically, when she rejected him the night he arrived in Boston with the two gifts he brought... _for her_. She knew just _why_ she lost all rationality in trying to protect him when she saw him risking his life to save her. Minerva had told her why; in her own _cryptic_ bullshit message, of course: _The Sanctuary must be guarded closely by both Adam and Eve in order to prevent premature access. You must bring us the one meant to open the temple and prevent what is to come._

Maya already knew Desmond Miles was chosen and favored by the First Civilization to seek access into the Precursor Site; and she knew for a fact that Connor Kenway was an ancestor of Desmond. She sat back onto the bank of the river, and realized that she was placed to be an ancestor of Desmond Miles as well. His genes had a high concentration of Hybrid DNA, of _both_ Adam and Eve; and the thought of how that was, was enough to give Maya a headache. But, what she didn’t understand was that if her mother was brought back, and Connor’s father was a _Son of Adam_ , as the Brotherhood would say, then _what happened_? From what she could remember of her own education, Connor Kenway’s journals never spoke of a wife or family.

Most were burned, but what was recovered, was just what he’d done during his exploits within the Revolutionary War. None of Haytham Kenway’s journals were ever recovered by the Brotherhood; it only mentioned that Connor’s father _left_ the Brotherhood before he was born. Hence, why Maya grew up to believe that Charles Lee was in fact the focus of Connor’s list of threats. “Just another damned piece I have to solve.” She said aloud to herself.

 

“What piece?”

 

The voice from behind startled her so much, that she had to slam her hand onto the dirt to avoid falling into the river when she turned to it. Connor stood not far behind her, still dressed in his robes, but his hood was back, revealing the questioned expression on his face. He stepped towards her, and finally knelt at her side, tilting his head to see her face. Maya had to clear her throat, and she reached up to fold her hair behind her ear. Why in the _hell_ was she suddenly so nervous? Oh right; she and Connor were supposed to be “ _Desmond’s Ancestors_ ”-- _duh_. She hoped he didn’t know that already. Talk about _awkward_. She shook her head at his question, “Uh, nothing. Just something I saw from Minerva during my little _breakdown_.”

 

_Great, you jackass_ , Maya inwardly thought to herself, giving herself a mental kick, _Joke about what happened and mask your feelings. Good plan!_

“It was getting late, and I wondered where you were at.” Connor told her.

  

She raised a brow, and narrowed her eyes at him. “Why were you looking for me?”

 

Her eyes followed him as he fidgeted on the ground beneath him. He shot her a quick glance before looking out to the river in front of them. For the first time, Maya truly studied his chiseled features, and how expressive he was when he was deep in thought; and in the moonlight that lit the clear darkened sky, it shadowed across his face, giving her the vision of perfection. Finally, he stopped fidgeting, and bent up a leg, resting his elbow casually over his knee. He looked boyish as he picked up a blade of grass with the other hand, and began peeling at it. “I wanted to know how you were. After today, I was quite worried.” He looked at her, and Maya cursed herself for _loving_ how his near onyx colored eyes looked like pools of dark velvet. “I know what it is like to lose your mother.”

 

Maya sat back, and tore her gaze from him to look out ahead of her. She swallowed the lump building in her throat; _of course_. She remembered just how he lost his mother when his village was burned; and now that she knew better, it couldn’t have been other than his own father that was behind that incident. _Selfish much, Maya?_ She could only imagine the betrayal he felt when he found out just who his father was. And here she was, crying over the death of a mother she never knew. _Suck it up, buttercup_ , she scolded inwardly. Sighing heavily, Maya licked her dry lips and looked at him. “Connor, I’m so sorry. The loss of my mother, who I never knew, was nowhere _near_ as traumatic in how you lost your own.” She placed her hand gently on his arm closest to her, which he looked down at before looking at her again. For a moment, she wondered if she may have overstepped her bounds, but kept her hand there anyway. “I’m sorry for acting the way I did.”

 

That was a _huge_ contrast for Maya; she never apologized to anyone, and it seemed as though she felt she needed to apologize to Connor for _everything_. Maybe she did; she treated him horribly when she first arrived, and they put those differences behind them, learning to trust and work together. But then, Maya rejected him, and she hurt him; and he _still_ came for her. The man was _amazing_. Any woman would be _stupid_ not to see it, and she listed herself as number one. How in the world was she going to tell him just what Minerva had said; and even worse, how was she going to reveal to him what she had done? She wouldn’t be surprised if he became disgusted with her, and didn’t want anything else to do with her, therefore ruining everything-- _again_!

 

When she felt his hand lie gently on her own she raised her brow in surprise, when his thumb began idly stroking the top of her hand. Her eyes moved up to look at him, and she watched as his gaze honed onto their hands. Finally, he took her hand off of his arm, and placed it in his and his finger tip feathered over her skin, sending a wave of shivers down her spine and to her very core. He studied her hand for a moment, but then his brow furrowed. “Where are your bracers?”

 

_Oh shit; here it goes. Prepare to lose your mind, Connor_.

 

Maya gulped hard, and took her other hand to squeeze the bridge of her nose. “They were taken when I was held by Pitcairn. He gave them to Fillan’s Templar sister, and she left with them before I was released.” She wanted to cry over the loss of her bracers and hidden blades, actually. They were all she had of her own time; and the bracers with the blades were always given to a _pupil_ when they’ve been formally inducted as an Assassin and into their faction.

 

“I see.” His expression softened and he moved his gaze up to look at her. “Do not worry; I will ensure you get them back, or we can have ones remade,” The lips that Maya wanted so badly to kiss at the moment, and every moment after, curved slightly upwards as he continued to stroke her hand with his fingers, “It may be the symbol of the new beginning you seek if you have them remade here.”

 

_No, the new beginning I seek is you_. But, her confidence had decided to take leave, never to be heard from since; she couldn’t even bring herself to tell him anything of how she felt for him. She knew she should, but her mouth refused to allow the words to come out. But the longer she gazed at him, the more the moonlight above had begun to radiate his features, and Maya’s heart stopped at the heat of his gaze. She felt her lips curl up in a smile, and the heat begin to rise in her cheeks. “You know, you can be quite charming when you want to be.”

 

His smile widened at that, and Maya wanted to kick herself; _that’s the best you can do, you dolt?_ And, Connor proved that he had a known habit of always coming out on top when he lifted a hand to brush a stray dark strand of her hair out of her face. “And you are quite beautiful.”

 

_Sigh, run, or die_?

 

Maya only stared at him, and wanted to do all three. But, she knew that she had to tell him everything before anything else moved forward. He had a _right_ to know, and then, everything would be out in the open, and the decision would be up to him. She began to work up the courage to blurt out _I screwed Thomas Hickey_ before she turned and ran with her tail hidden between her legs, but the words caught in her throat as his hand trailed gently down the side of her face. His eyes moved down to her lips, and soon, before she could stop herself, his lips hovered over her own. He was hesitant; he was either afraid that he was making a huge mistake, or he was afraid she would push him away. But, Maya decided, _to hell with it_ , and pressed her lips to his, closing the small distance that he had already created.

 

She owed everyone whom she doubted when they would tell her _sparks_ were felt when a first true kiss was shared with the one you loved, a _huge_ apology. Hell, she wouldn’t stop at _sparks_ ; as her fingers touched his face gently, and his lips began to claim her own, she felt like she _exploded_. The confession of her own sins could wait; she refused to ruin the moment she was sharing with a man that now caused the warmth to spread throughout her body as he continued to claim her lips, and placed his hand behind her neck gently, pulling her into him, as if they still had some invisible space between them to fill.

 

But, the sound of the voice behind them both broke the moment, and they abruptly snapped away from each other, as if they were caught playing some naughty game. “Sorry!” Maya ground her teeth at the sudden absence of Connor’s mouth on her own, and at the sound of Stephane’s quick apology for intruding.

 

She glanced sideways at Connor, and saw him run his hands back through his thick black strands of hair, sighing in what Maya could only tell to be frustration. “ _What_ , Stephane?” His hard tone definitely told Maya it was out of frustration.

 

Maya could only stifle a laugh as the other Assassin apologized continuously. She was beginning to become somewhat grateful; had no one shown up, they may have torn each other’s clothes off, and that would have been even worse. “It’s alright, Stephane,” She smiled back at the French Assassin whom she considered a great drinking buddy in their downtime. He flashed a quick, knowing grin before he straightened up at Connor’s glare. “What’s going on?” Maya finally asked.

 

“Well, Achilles requested to see the both of you. He sent me to look for you, and well,” Stephane couldn’t help but grin as he gestured his hand to the both of them. He ignored Connor’s glare, and instead paid attention to Maya’s attempt to keep in a laugh. “Well, I found you. _Both_ of you. I’ll see you back at the quarters. That’s where he’s requesting to see you both.”

 

As if he were afraid that Connor would suddenly shoot up and actually kill him, he turned and ran back onto the trail that led up to the main road. Maya let out a breath she didn’t know she held, and straightened her face as Connor looked at her with a brow raised. They would _definitely_ have a lot to talk about; and while the city of Boston repaired itself from the Siege, it looked as though Maya would have plenty of time to do it while she stayed at the Homestead. “Come on,” She finally told him, as she stood to her feet. He followed suit, and watched her as she brushed the dirt off of the back of her robes. The silence was _awkward_ , and Maya wondered if he felt just as bashful as she suddenly did. “Let’s go before Achilles spits nails.”

 

Before Connor could see the heat that rose to her cheeks, Maya turned from him, and walked towards the trail to the main road. She stopped and turned to him, and waited until he finally made his way quietly to her side. With a smile, Maya slipped her arm through his, and pulled. “Walk with me. We can talk after we speak with Achilles.” She told him.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this one! Please leave a comment, and let me know what you think!


	20. XX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Maya allow their feelings to blossom more, as their commitment to the Brotherhood becomes personal.

Connor wanted to strangle Stephane when he heard his voice intrude on what he considered to be a pivotal moment to him and Maya’s relationship. Not only was he going to keep ravaging the lips he now wanted more of, but he was building up the courage to tell Maya just how he felt about her. Of course, it would now have to wait until after Achilles spoke with the both of them. Connor also wanted to point out to Maya that she had _no_ reason to feel as though she could not mourn her own family because she had not known them. He had a feeling she would just bottle up those emotions she let out, and never allow them to come out again.

However he couldn’t help but smile, as he and Maya walked in silence toward the Brotherhood quarters; he held her arm that was linked through his, close to his body. He welcomed the warm feeling he felt within him as she pressed her cheek against his bicep as they walked. Everything now felt as though they were falling into place; even amidst the tragedy Maya faced that day.

 

He felt _alive_ when they kissed each other; Connor never felt a twinge of regret, or wondered whether or not it was right to do so. He was unable to explain it, even to himself; it gave him a feeling that it was the _right_ thing to do; as though it were _meant_ that way. They reached the door to the house that was meant for the Brotherhood members, but Connor wanted to make sure Maya knew that he was _there_ ; and that she was welcome to lay her head onto his shoulder again whenever she pleased. When she stepped up to the door, he stopped her by pulling her toward him by her hand. She turned to look at him; her eyes widened with surprise, and _by the Creator_ , her lips were going to be a big distraction. “What is it?” She asked him finally.

 

Taking her other hand, Connor faced her fully toward him as he stepped up to stand directly in front of her. When her head tilted upward, it took every amount of strength that Connor had from placing his mouth over her own, and he cleared his throat. “Do not think you have no right to mourn the loss of anyone. Regardless of whether or not you _knew_ them, they were your family, Maya. It’s only right that you honor their memory by allowing yourself to mourn their loss.” He lifted a hand and lightly brushed his fingers down her cheek, “I will be here to help you. Even when you don’t want me to.”

 

Her eyes softened as she gazed up at him. She gave him a small smile, and gently squeezed his hand. “I don’t think it’s about _wanting_ , Connor.” His heart stopped at her rejection, but she continued. “I _need_ you to.”

 

She turned from him, walking into the house. Connor smiled as he allowed himself to breathe again. It was nice to know they were on the right track. He would just have to hope the courage to tell her how he felt about her stayed with him until after Achilles’ discussion with them both. He followed her into the house, and into the large room they used for planning and strategizing. Achilles sat at the head of the large table, while he and Maya took their own seats at his sides. Connor didn’t know if Maya was still upset with Achilles; her blank expression wouldn’t tell him whether or not she was. They both respectfully waited for the Old Man to speak. Connor watched as Achilles’ grip on the top of his cane tightened and loosened as he waited to talk. Finally, their mentor cleared his throat. “I owe you an apology, Maya.”

 

 

Maya only sat back against the backing of her chair, and folded her hands over her stomach. “Your mother went through the same painful revelation at the hands of that artifact. We all tried so hard to help her, but the Templars had become too powerful. I wanted to tell you, Maya, but it was a journey you must take to figure out for yourself; and I was forbidden to tell you. Please understand when I do tell you that it _was not_ my place to tell you. If you did not find out on your own, the natural course of your path would not have been able to take place.” He narrowed his eyes at Maya, “Do you understand?”

 

Connor watched as Maya let the information sink in; she bit down on her lower lip in thought, and she gave Achilles a nod of her head. “But, I want _you_ to understand, Achilles; that I know you tried and did what you could. I understand that you mourn the loss of Abigail and Connor.” Her eyes moved to her hand that she now placed onto the wooden surface of the table. “I’ve done a lot of thinking today, and I’ve had to piece together what was shown to me.”

 

Maya’s eyes quickly darted up to Connor, and held his gaze for a moment before she continued. “However, I think I would much rather _try_ to get some rest before going into an attempt to decipher another of Minerva’s cryptic messages.”

 

Achilles agreed with an incline of his head. He then looked at Connor, “Tomorrow, please send messages to summon William and Emily here. I would like for us to discuss our plans of expansion and moving forward.”

 

“Understood.”

 

 

Achilles then turned and looked at Maya, “About your door...”

 

 

Connor cursed in his native language, but stopped as Maya quickly shook her head. “No, don’t worry about it. I don’t need privacy to _sleep_ in a bed. If I need it, I’ll improvise until the door is repaired.”

 

“Very well.” Achilles then glanced between the two and cleared his throat. “That will be all, you two. I bid you both good night.”

 

Connor inclined his head, and watched as Maya stood, and placed her hand gently on the Old Man’s shoulder. The compassion she had when she looked at their mentor, and the small smile she gave him, gave Connor comfort, knowing that Maya was _not_ angry with Achilles. She had been hurt; but it seemed she was allowing Achilles to help her get past it. Before Connor turned to follow Maya out of the room, Achilles gave him a quick smile, and inclined his head. It was probably obvious, or Stephane possibly told Achilles, that he and Maya had more than just a _talk_ at the river bank earlier.

 

 

* * *

 

“Are you feeling well?”

 

 

Maya glanced to her side at Connor. They had taken the short walk back to the manor from the Brotherhood quarters in silence. His eyes gazed at her with concern, and it filled her with a sudden sense of nostalgia; she wanted to go back to the moment on the river bank they shared--with _no_ interruptions this time. But, too much happened to her that day; it was almost too much for her own mind to handle. The need to tell Connor about what she had done with Thomas Hickey clouded over the memory of the kiss they shared; followed by the memory of the loss of her mother and brother she had never known. _Yeah, it was time for nostalgia to go away now._

Lifting her shoulder in a shrug, Maya walked up the steps of the manor porch. “Not exactly.” She admitted.

 

“Have I done something to upset you?”

 

 

The last thing Maya was going to do was reject Connor; she _never_ wanted to do that again. She would glue her lips to his and leave them there forever if that’s what he wanted. The worried tone in his voice caused her to swing around to him. “No!” She winced at the sharp tone of her voice, and blinked up at him. Her hand gently rested onto his arm, “Connor, I want you to know that moment we shared will always remain...” Her voice trailed off as he stepped into her. Maya had to bend her neck up in order to look at him as he towered over her. “It was the most _intimate_ moment I’ve shared with anyone.”

 

 

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly into a lopsided grin. “Me as well.”

 

 

She watched as he gently slipped his hands into her own, and held it to his chest between them. “Maya, I have to tell you something, while I have to courage to do so.”

 

_Uh oh_. With the gentle tone of his voice, the tenderness of his touch when he held her hands to him, the way his eyes softened; Maya had a feeling as to what he was going to say, and her confession afterward was going to _hurt_. But, she couldn’t bring herself to stop him. She remembered what Minerva told her; most importantly, she remembered how _right_ it felt when he kissed her. She gave him a nod of her head, willing him to continue. “The past months I spent with you allowed me to see the person you truly are. And, it opened my eyes to see just what my heart feels for you. You are special to me, Maya.” His battle roughened fingers felt soft as they gently traced down her cheek. “I cannot lose you.”

 

_You are special to me, Maya._

The words imprinted on her heart; they were said with such gentleness that it caused her heart to clench. It was a sensation she welcomed; one that for the first time in her life, a man was able to create such warmth that flowed through her entire being. Maya relished in the way his voice washed over her like velvet, and instinctively leaned her cheek into his touch. When she felt his chest touch her own, she opened her eyes, not realizing she had closed them. Her eyes opened to the sight of his lips hovering over her own, and her breath slightly hitched as he inched closer. He tipped his head slightly upwards, brushing the tips of their noses together, and his voice came out in a whisper that left her breathless, “I _cannot_ lose you.”

 

He lowered his mouth to hers. His kiss was soft as she drew in a surprised breath. His hand moved from her cheek to the back of her head, gently burying into the strands of her hair. She licked her own lips when he pulled back slightly, as if he were giving her a chance to reconsider another; but Maya didn’t _want_ to reconsider. As if he knew her answer, his lips crushed against her own. Sucking in a deep breath, Maya opened her mouth to his, as her hand gripped onto his arm that snaked around her waist, crushing her body against him. Her fingers dug into his bicep, clinging to him as though she were afraid he would disappear. For a brief moment, Maya wondered if what she felt was real; with no involvement of the artifact that flowed in her veins. But, she felt no sensation within the tattoos that adorned her arms, which would tell her whether or not the artifact was influencing the situation. The shiver she felt crawl from her arms, and down her spine when his fingers spread out against her lower back, was all the proof Maya needed to realize that it was _Connor_ that sent the warmth through her; it was his touch that sent the electric shivers down her spine, that seemed to charge her very soul. _Please don’t end_....

 

To her dismay, Connor pulled his lips from hers; his breaths were ragged as they fanned her lips. His eyes blazed as they watched her, but as his fingers began to gently knead the base of her neck, she swallowed harshly as the need to confess began to overwhelm her. “Connor, I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

She reluctantly peeled herself from his embrace, and sidestepped him to walk to the railing of the porch. Placing her hands onto the railing, she curled her fingers around the wood so tightly, that her knuckles turned white. _Tell him the truth_.

 

“Before any of this goes further, you have to know that I was not proud of what I had done back in Boston.” She inclined her head, closing her eyes, as she retreated within herself in disgust at the memory. “You need to know what happened. I _did_ go back to my old way of obtaining information. I had to, in order to obtain what I needed out of Thomas Hickey; I allowed him to...” Her sentence trailed off as a lump built in her throat. She was attempting to push herself into confessing to him, but she couldn’t find the right word for what happened. She surely did not enjoy it; she didn’t want it, but allowed it; and because she despised it so badly, she was not _prepared_ for it which caused the injuries that the Shroud healed for her.

 

Maya sensed Connor’s overpowering presence at her side. “He _hurt_ you.”

 

The controlled tone in his voice revealed the dark side of him that caused fear in his enemies. Maya couldn’t speak, as the desperate need to scrub whatever filth she felt from her time with the Templar, and those before him, overwhelmed her. “I didn’t want to do it, but for some _stupid_ reason, I felt that I had to. I thought I could only just seduce him with words and gestures. Not the actual act of sex. But he wanted to before he told me anything.” She swung around to face him, as the confession began to pour from her lips. “I tried to convince him otherwise, but it wouldn’t work. He saw right through it. That’s why my bracers are gone and how I was captured. The Shroud began healing everything that was inflicted on me because of him. I wasn’t prepared for it, because I didn’t _want_ it. The use of the Shroud was so much that it ended up causing me to pass out afterwards. But, Connor I _let_ him do it.” She swallowed the lump as she felt her chin begin to tremble. “I’m so sorry, Connor. Please forgive me for what I had done.”

 

She couldn’t bear to look at him anymore; before she gave him a chance to even respond, she brushed past him into the manor. Maya made a beeline for the one place she felt the need to be; and as she made her way toward the back door of the manor, she felt the sob rise in her throat. Her actions had a larger consequence than she initially realized; not only did she place her own life in jeopardy, but she was now afraid that she may have placed whatever chance she had at _love_ in jeopardy as well.

 

* * *

 

Connor was dumbfounded. Even though his lips continued to tingle at the sensation of claiming Maya’s in a passionate, and nearly desperate kiss, her sudden change of mood confused him. But, the fog cleared from his mind as she walked out of the back door of the manor. He could only guess that she was going to the gravesite of her mother. _I didn’t want it_ ; _Please forgive me..._

Clenching his fists, Connor began to shake with rage as Maya’s words echoed in his ears. The Shroud healed injuries _inflicted_ on Maya because of Thomas Hickey. As it finally sank in, Connor wondered _why_ Maya felt the need to apologize. The rage that began to seethe throughout his body was not directed at her; she had shown the remorse of what she had done. _No_ ; Connor could only imagine that Hickey _knew_ he was causing her pain, and took some perverse joy in doing so. The elation he felt before she had confessed to him dissipated and his jaw tightened as he focused on who would now be next on the Templar list to go. As Connor turned, walking down the steps to the main road, he felt the dire need to be alone before he began destroying whatever he could get his hands on. He had to ensure the plot to assassinate George Washington was foiled; but he made a promise to find where Thomas Hickey was hiding as well. Hickey will _pay_ for his crimes within the Templars, but he will also pay for what he had done to Maya.

* * *

 

There was a tradition that Maya knew of her mother’s family; one that allowed the grieving process to pass when there was the loss of a loved one. The one in mourning would sing a lullaby to the winds, so that it may help soothe the spirit’s journey home. Those in her mother’s village on Easter Island knew the ultimate truth; they were closest to the location where Maya found the Shroud of Turin. As she knelt between the graves of her mother and brother, the words of the song fell from Maya’s lips in her native Rapa Nui language. She sang to allow the spirits of her mother and brother know that she grieved, and to also allow her own spirit peace as she mourned their loss. No one had done so for them; because Maya had grown up with a flicker of hope that although her mother disappeared, she could have been alive.

 

It was ironic; her mother _was_ alive, but within the fabric of time. Her eyes closed slowly as she sang, not loudly, but hopefully just enough for the spirits to hear. Maya sang, bidding them goodbye; she wished for the spirits of her own ancestors to guide her mother and brother safely to the heavens; she then asked for the blessing of her ancestors, so that she may avenge the wrongful deaths of her mother and brother, to ensure their spirits would not suffer, but feel that they had received justice to find peace.

 

Her song ended, and she sat back onto the ground, gazing out to the bay ahead of her. She remembered how Achilles told her that Abigail loved this spot; loved to be near the water. The desire to be close to the water was bred into Maya; her own people were from the remote Easter Island. While her grandfather was alive, he once told Maya that though the water could be calm, peaceful, and cleansing, it was also one of the deadliest forces of nature when angered. One could never tell if the waters would swallow you whole into the abyss of the one place that a man feared to go. It was “unpredictable, but beautiful”, he said; and treated with the upmost respect. Her grandfather told her with such certainty, that she wondered if he was trying to give her the strength for living the life she was raised within. “Your mother would sing the same song every night out here.”

 

Achilles’ voice caused Maya to turn, breaking her thoughts. It was such a blessing in disguise, in her mind; she was glad he interrupted before she broke down again. He sat on the boulder he used to mediate each morning that was planted next to the gravesites. Maya frowned, knowing that the events earlier had opened up the floodgates for Achilles to mourn the loss of his family again. The Old Man glanced at her, and she went to sit with him when he waved his hand toward the empty space at his side. In a moment of silence, the two gazed out at the bay ahead of them. “Every night; from the moment she came, to the moment she left.” He gave a heavy sigh.

 

“Did she ever tell you what the song was about?” At his nod, Maya’s brow lifted with question. “Who did she sing for?”

 

Maya noticed his lips form into a slight frown, but he relaxed his features as he turned his gaze to her. “You.” His voice broke, and he had to clear his throat before continuing. “She said she sang for you to hear how she mourned having to leave you behind, and she wanted to make things right. Know that your mother missed you.”

  

She had to bite on her lower lip to keep it from trembling as the lump threatened to rise in her throat yet again. It was no wonder now that she felt as though Abigail were speaking to her through her journal as Maya read through it. She was suddenly curious to know more; the other journal Achilles had given her had yet to be read, but Maya also knew that she had gone through a brain overload that day, and it would be better if she handled one situation thrown at her at a time. She still needed to figure out her whole situation with Connor; the _love_ emotion scared her senseless; it was something unfamiliar, yet so fragile to her. Maya wondered if Abigail handled it the same, considering Maya’s own father never loved her mother. “Did you love her?” She blurted out before she could stop herself.

 

When he turned his head away from her to stare ahead, Maya wondered if she had been _too_ personal. He shifted and continued to stare ahead of them, “Oh, yes.”

  

Maya smiled slightly when she saw the corner of his lips turn upwards at the memory of his love for his wife. “Since the moment I laid my eyes on your mother, I couldn’t think of anything else. She became my world, my reason for living, the strength behind my weaknesses. She was compassionate, kind, beautiful, yet highly stubborn.”

 

Maya’s gaze went sideways in thought. Her mother was very different from how she had seen her own self. The only quality she seemed to have that anyone cared to notice was her stubbornness. “You favor her. Very much so.” He told her.

 

She tilted her head to her shoulder as she lifted it in a shrug, dismissing his compliment. “Well, I know I look like her, and now I know that she was stubborn too, but--”

 

“Not just that, Maya.” He interrupted her. “Your compassion for the lives around you that you vow to look after reminds me so much of your mother. Your stubbornness is easily overseen by your kindness.”

 

Her vision blurred, and Maya cursed herself as she felt a tear fall freely down her cheek. Maya didn’t know what broke her heart more; the fact that her own father never said anything remotely kind to her, or that he never said any comparison that Maya yearned to hear, wondering if she was at all like her own mother--because she was _not_ the cut and dry person that her father was. _Sacrifices are needed in order to uphold who we are_ , was his motto. He only was quick to point out her failures, never spoke of her mother, and became her father only because he was the other half of who she was.

 

It was refreshing to have someone like Achilles within her life; guiding her, advising, and most of all, mentoring her in nearly every aspect of her life, with mixture of humanity. She felt his hand gently squeeze her shoulder, and she pushed aside her shame as she stared up at him through her tear soaked vision. “ _Life_ is what matters. And, with it, comes all aspects; love, friendship, compassion, empathy. The fight is meaningless without it.”

 

Maya got the hint. His words caused a new light of hope within her to shimmer, to continue moving forward on the road that lay before her. She gave him a smile, and in turn, he gave her a new understanding of what she had to do. Shroud or not, Maya knew that everything would fall into place, and that she would know when the time was right to act upon it. “Thank you, Achilles. Thank you for loving my mother and giving her that chance to experience it.”

 

“You have no need to thank me, Maya. In fact, I thank the heavens every day for allowing _me_ to experience the love I shared with such a passionate woman as your mother. Although it had not been able to last as long as I had wished, I still would never trade it for any gold or silver in the world. I know that she and our son wait to be reunited with me when the time comes. But, I still have a purpose to fulfill before I do, as well.”

  

She watched as he stood up, and walked back to the manor. When she was finally alone, Maya turned her head to look at the view of the bay. With a deep sigh, Maya allowed her lips to form a smile. It was time for her to allow herself to experience _life_ as well.

 

* * *

 

Connor’s walk felt wonderful. It allowed him to reflect, and be able to calm himself before he turned in for the night. He planned ahead of what the next morning’s strategy session would be with the Brotherhood on how to begin searching for a way to stop the assassination on Washington, and how to go about finding leads on Thomas Hickey. He inhaled a deep breath as the mere mention of his name threatened the anger to return. Maya was also on his mind as he walked throughout the community of Homestead Davenport. Connor planned to speak with Big Dave the following day about remaking her bracers and blades for her. Not only was it a danger for her to be unarmed, but he knew just how sentimental they were to an Assassin; and to lose them was a sign of failure.

 

It was definitely a sign he didn’t want Maya to believe in. He digested the news she delivered of her time with Thomas Hickey; it _hurt_. But it hurt that another man’s hands were on her; hurting her. He had no claim on her. But the jealousy kept blinding him when he envisioned the man’s filthy hands on her. She made an error in judgment when she decided to carry out her plan, but the important part to him, was that she was _alive_.

 

Connor believed heavily that Maya did not need to be demeaned, or hurt by another man any longer. It was not who she was anymore; she had a _new_ life here--with _him_. He wanted her to understand that he would _never_ hurt her, or allow anyone else to for that matter. As he made his way towards the back of the manor, he glanced quickly at the cliffs, and when there was no one to be seen, he guessed that she had gone to bed already. The discussion he wanted with her would have to wait until morning.

 

But when he stepped into the backdoor of the manor, the candelabra against the wall next to the basement door was twisted; the door to below still open. He stepped down into the room below, which held the robes, weapons, literature of the Assassins, and portraits of the Templars on the wall. As he slowed to a stop at the last step, his hand gripped onto the banister of the stair railing, when his eyes landed onto the woman he longed to see. He watched as she stood in front of the dress form next to the one that held his robes. Her hands worked to ensure that her own robes fit properly onto the dress form in front of her. His gaze slowly raked over her body, imprinting each curve shadowed by the candle light into his mind. Her braided hair draped over her shoulder, and his eyes landed onto the nape of her neck, and he suddenly wondered what it would feel like to press his lips gently to her soft skin there. Connor already admitted to himself when he kissed her earlier at the river bank that he would not be able to feel as though he’d had enough. His fingers gripped the banister as they ached to touch the softness of her skin, to be able to adore her the way she should be adored. A flush of heat seared through him at the image; of his hands exploring every inch of her skin, his lips pressed to her own, and her soft sighs of pleasure as his lips trailed down her throat. He shook his head sharply, and suddenly wiped his brow.

 

“Hello, Connor.”

  

Snapping himself out of it, and back into the real world, he looked up, and noticed she still had her back turned to him. He calmed his erratic breathing, and finally stepped forward. Maya hadn’t looked at him yet, as she concentrated on her fingers that began tying the strings of the bodice front of her robes to secure them on the dress form. He cleared his suddenly dry throat, and began to work his way out of his robes as well. “How did you know I was there?” He asked her with a small smile.

 

He shot a sideways glance at her, and saw her lift her shoulders in a shrug. “I just _knew_.”

  

The knowing smile she suddenly had with her answer caused his cheeks to blush slightly. She _knew_ he was watching her for what seemed to be hours. He began unbuttoning the front of his robes, but stopped suddenly when she turned to leave. Gently grabbing her arm, he pulled her towards him. “I just want you to know something, Maya.” At her questioned look, he continued, “What happened with you and Thomas Hickey matters little to me. The only thing that I am concerned with is the fact that he _hurt_ you.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he held his hand up, stopping her. “You don’t ever have to put yourself in that situation ever again. I never wanted you to, because it is _not_ who you are. You are special, Maya. You are the one that has been the strength behind the Brotherhood. Not with your _tactics_ you used in the past, but with your _heart_. You once told Achilles a long time ago that you did not feel human anymore. You are _more_ than what you see yourself as, Maya. I would never have been able to do any of this without you, and for that I am grateful. When the Brotherhood threatened to fall, you became their strength.” He swallowed the dry lump in his throat, as he prepared to continue. Her eyes widened with shock at his words, and she turned fully to face him. “You have become _my_ strength, as well, Maya.”

  

When she didn’t respond, or move, Connor released his hand from her arm. He dropped his arm to his side, and searched her face for any kind of emotion. Defeat threatened to overcome his senses, but her hand gently rested onto his cheek, and his eyes marveled as a smile touched her lips. Her eyes studied his face, and finally met his own. “You are as well, Connor.”

 

She rose up to place her lips gently to his cheek. He could feel his own smile form on his face, and she settled back onto her feet. “Good night, Connor.” She said softly, before turning away.

 

Connor felt his spirit lift within him, as she gave him a quick smile before walking up the steps. He could feel his own lazy smile as he watched her leave. As sudden warmth radiated throughout his body, Connor turned to look at the robes she left hanging in front of him. Unable to contain the sideways grin that settled on his face, he began removing his own robes.

 

When he placed them onto the dress form in front of him, he stole a glance at Maya’s robes. Curious, he stepped back after securing his robes onto his dress form, and placed his hands on his hips as he stared at the two sets of robes beside each other. His eyes went from his own robes to Maya’s, and his smile widened, as he realized the symbolization that had been in front of him all these years. The robes Maya now claimed once belonged to her own mother; the wife of Achilles. Connor remembered when he first saw them, waiting for someone to fill. The robes he now claimed were that of Achilles before his mentor hung them up for good. The Old Man may have let the manor begin to crumble around him after the Brotherhood was decimated and his family killed; but Connor was able to see that the robes were cared for. They represented the Assassin who wore them.

 

Connor let out a small laugh as he shook his head slightly; all this time, it was in front of him for a reason that was unknown at the time. _Now_ , he knew; the two Assassins that were symbolized by the two sets of robes side by side were _meant_ to be a team. There was never one without the other. As he rubbed his chin, visualizing him and Maya working together side by side, he only hoped that Maya had seen the same thing.

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to leave a comment :) I'd like to know what you think so far :)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so just trying to post this on here; I'd written it with Microsoft Word, so it's going to take some time to edit the chapters for this site. It's so super frustrating. I've finally finished it on Deviant Art, if you have an account there you can check it out. But I figured I'd post it here as well for others to read and please, leave a comment and critique for me? I'd truly apprecaite that!


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